


It Is What it Is

by ourlittlesecret



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Harry-centric, I don't know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love, Minor Character Death, Music, Partying, Romance, Sexual Content, Touring, drug references, minor mention of other band members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 86,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourlittlesecret/pseuds/ourlittlesecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Georgia has experienced a lot in her not-quite-thirty years.  Lured by fame and fortune when she was young, her life was turned upside down, and not in a good way.  She's finally found her way back to some normalcy when she is offered a job opportunity she can't refuse.  Encouraged by her friends and family, she embarks on a new journey as the stylist for the biggest boy band in history, whose members happen to include her childhood friend, Harry Styles.  </p><p>She isn't prepared for all that comes her way, and soon learns that it isn't so easy to run from one's past.  And that sometimes, the people you least expect are the ones who will help you the most in the end.</p><p>(I'm absolute shit at writing summaries.  But I think it's a pretty good read, so, read it.  If you are so inclined.)<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New York

Harry ran his hands through his hair and looked over at me with a grin on his face. “Well, what did you think?”

“Really entertaining, Harry. You guys put on a good show.”

“Thanks. I know it isn’t really your thing, but I’m glad you were able to come,” he said, pulling off his sweat-drenched shirt and revealing his slim torso and his various tattoos. I looked away, and thought about how much confidence he had for a nineteen year old boy, how easy he was with himself around other people. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat with us before we head out of town?”

“Um, sure, why not? Might as well enjoy my night off.”

“Great. I’m gonna grab a shower. I’ll be back in a few. Make yourself comfortable,” he told me before he walked out of the dressing room. 

I sat down on a plush sofa, and I looked around the room at all of the various odds and ends that seem to accompany a boy band on tour—various articles of clothing strewn about, a soccer ball in the corner, empty water bottles and soda cans, fan-made posters, open bags of chips. It smelled like boy, and it brought back memories that I’d been trying to push away. It hadn’t been that long since I’d been in a room like this, when I thought about it. Except instead of all of these wholesome boy-like things, it had been filled with half naked women and empty beer and liquor bottles, heavy cigarette smoke clouding the air, guitars leaning against the wall. My stomach lurched and I could almost smell that room, hear the noise, feel how I felt.

“Georgia?” Harry’s voice brought me out of my memories with a jolt.

“Oh, Harry. Sorry. Just….”

“Are you ok?”

“Yup, fine,” I said as I stood up and smoothed my sweater. “Where are we headed?” 

“Um, well, they guys are kind of wanting to have a couple beers, but that is hard here. We aren’t exactly old enough, so we were just gonna go back to the suite at the hotel. Is that ok?”

“Sure. I could do with a casual atmosphere. As long as I won’t get in trouble for providing alcohol to minors,” I said with a grin as I pushed my hair out of my face. 

He laughed. “We have people for that.”

****

After a short drive through very crowded streets—the fan base for these boys was ridiculous—we pulled into a parking garage and were ushered into the elevator. Even with security we were exposed. Flashbulbs went off in our faces as we laughed and ducked into the elevator where the guard swiped his card for the penthouse suite.

“This is seriously crazy, Harry. How do you deal?”

“It is mostly fun, with a bit of horror built in. Some days I handle it better than others, but I try to remember that if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be here. But, you know how it is. You’ve lived this.”

“Not like this, Harry. It was never like this. I don’t think I would have stood it.”

“Just wait. Tomorrow you’ll be in all the papers—my woman du jour.” He grinned that grin and winked at me with his green eyes.

“Great,” I said sarcastically as the elevators opened into the main room of the suite where the boys were staying. Music was playing, and the others were sitting in the living room, some with girls next to them, some on phones, laughing about how the show went and talking about new songs they were recording.

Harry introduced me to his band mates: Niall, Louis, Zayn and Liam; and to their other girlfriends and friends in the room. He introduced me simply as “Georgia” which they seemed to accept without explanation or recognition. I was probably 10 years older than everyone else in the room, but that didn’t even bother me. It was nice to be here, see these boys who seemed so happy and so untouched by their fame. To see it before it all went wrong, to hope that it never would. It was already late for me, but since I didn’t have to worry about my daughter or work or being home for any reason, I relaxed and enjoyed myself. As we relaxed into the evening, I felt my tension disappear, forgetting, feeling even happy.

“So, how do you know Harry?” Liam asked. I looked up at him with some surprise. I was surprised that Harry hadn’t explained who I was.

“Oh, I knew Harry growing up,” I answered vaguely.

“But, you’re obviously a little bit older—did you baby sit him or something?” Niall said, with a laugh.

“Are you calling me old?” I grinned at him. Niall faltered a bit at that, his face dropped and I laughed—a bit too loudly, probably. I felt nervous. “I’m just kidding. I am old. By your standards anyway, probably.” 

“She wasn’t my baby sitter,” Harry said. There was something in his voice, but I couldn’t quite read his tone. 

“Our parents were friends,” I said. “Our dads worked together, so we know each other that way.”

“So, how’d you end up at our show?” Liam asked.

“Well, Harry invited me. And I haven’t seen him since…well, for a while, and I needed a night out. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a concert. So, here I am,” I replied, hoping that this line of questioning would stop before it went too far.

“Wait,” Louis said, “Georgia? As in Georgia Rose?” My stomach flipped.

“Lou.” Harry said quietly.

“The Georgia Rose? As in Georgia and-”

“Louis.” Harry said more stiffly this time. Louis stopped and looked at him. Then at me. I’m not sure how I appeared to him. I felt like I was melting into a puddle. Whatever it was he saw, he stopped his line of questioning. 

“I’m sorry.” Louis said, embarrassed. “I wasn’t thinking, I just….”

“Well, just stop it,” Harry snapped. The room was quiet now. And I was very aware that I had become the center of attention. 

“Harry, it’s ok,” I said as I put my hand on his arm, “it was bound to happen.” I stood up. “I think, though, that I should be going.”

“You don’t have to go,” several of them said in unison. 

“Oh, but I do. I don’t belong here, and I am bringing down your party. Time for this old woman to hit the road. I really enjoyed the show, guys, and I’m glad to have met you all. Maybe I’ll stop by another show when you’re in town.” They all murmured their good-byes as Harry walked me to the door. Louis jogged up to us.

“Georgia, I am really sorry. I’m just sort of star-struck, I guess, and I wasn’t thinking.”

“Louis, please don’t feel badly, really. It’s ok.” Funny that a boy with millions of twitter followers and a billion dollar enterprise would be star struck when it came to me.

“I just want to tell you that I was-am-a huge fan, and…” He seemed lost for words.

“Thanks. It means a lot,” I said as he hugged me gently and turned to walk away.

“George, Lou is a good guy. He just doesn’t always think before he opens his mouth,” Harry apologized for his friend.

“Harry, seriously. I’m a big girl. I can’t avoid my life forever, can I?” I said softly. “I know it is hard, but that’s life sometimes. It is what it is.”

Looking at Harry’s sad face cut me to the core. Sometimes I forget this all affected him, too. “I need to go, though. Really. Time to get back to real life and stop playing at being a carefree teenager,” I hugged him gently, “I’ll call you sometime.” He just nodded solemnly and smiled sadly as I got on the elevator. 

“It was good to see you, Georgia.” 

****

I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing, and someone making noise in the kitchen. I glanced at my phone but before I could see what all the fuss was about, I hear my mom calling me, “Georgia? Are you up?”

“Yeah, ma.” I said as I wandered into the kitchen. It wasn’t a big apartment, but it was my apartment and I loved it. “Morning, sunshine,” I said reaching for my daughter, Lily, “did you have fun with your granny?” I asked as I nuzzled her neck and smelled her sweet baby smell. After installing Lily in her highchair, I reached for the morning paper sitting on the table. Oddly, my mother snatched it from under my hand before I grabbed it. “What was that about?” 

“I don’t think you really need to see it.”

“See what? The paper? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Really, Georgia, trust me,” She said warily.

“Mom? Are you serious? Give me the damn paper,” I grabbed it out of her hand. And as I read the headline, “Georgia Rose, widow of bad-boy rocker, seen out in NYC” the paper fell out of my hands.

“Georgia.”

“I can’t.” I couldn’t breathe.

“Georgia, honey,” my mom said sadly. 

“I’ve gotta, um…. Can you just…,” I gestured at Lily, unable to form a complete sentence. My mom nodded as I ran to the bedroom.

Shock, really, is all I could feel at that moment. I should have known something like this would happen. I grabbed for my phone—realizing why it was vibrating and alerting me to a million messages. As I started looking at my notifications, one after the other, they were all repeating the same thing: Georgia Rose… Widow of famous bad boy rocker Tom Rose…. Newest flame of popular bad boy….. Harry Styles. Wait, what? WHAT? As painful as all of this was, I laughed out loud. I knew there was always the potential for someone to spot me, for this to happen. I guess I was an idiot for even setting foot near Harry, but I seriously never expected that. Harry. This was too funny to even hurt. My mother poked her head around the door, “Honey, are you ok? Why are you laughing?” I’m sure she thought I was hitting my breaking point.

“Mom, have you seen THIS?” I said as I pushed the phone towards her. “Harry. Me and Harry? Jesus.”

“Um. Well, yes. I mean, it was all over the TV this morning. You and Harry going into his hotel. Alone.”

“Mom. Seriously?” I started laughing again. “You don’t—You don’t believe this, do you? Me and Harry an item?”

“Well, you know. I don’t like to make assumptions either way, honey. I just want you to be happy.” 

“Mom. Harry and I—I mean. I’m 10 years older than him. He is still a TEENAGER. And besides….” My voice faltered, and my eyes welled up. “Oh, mom, this sucks, so bad.”

“I know, honey, I know,” she said as she sat down beside me and wrapped her arms around me.

“I should never have gone out last night. I knew it would be a mistake. It’s easy enough to blend in on an ordinary day in ordinary places. But of course. Biggest boy band in history and I had to be photographed going into his hotel. Ugh.” I wiped my eyes. “Really, I need to learn how to deal…. It has been 2 years since Tom….” I couldn’t finish.

“Georgia, it isn’t just something you will yourself to get over. You have to take your own path,” She patted my arm as Lily screamed. I started to get up, but my mom held me in place, “I’ll get her, darling. In fact, I think she and I have a few errands to run.”

“Thanks, mom,” I smiled up at her sadly. I glanced down at my phone again, still vibrating crazily, and threw it against the wall.

****

After I showered and got dressed, I bent over my now silent phone, assuming I had broken it when I threw it against the wall. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. It just seems everyone had tired of blasting me with headlines and images of things I didn’t want to see. There was just one text message on the screen. It said, simply, “Georgia?” It was from Harry. 

Well crap. 

What do I do with that? 

I didn’t even want to address any of this. With anyone. I just wanted to ignore it so it would go away so I just stared at my phone unsure of what to do. Last night really brought back so many feelings for me. And this morning. Being in the headlines wasn’t exactly a novelty for me, but it hadn’t happened in a while. And it didn’t used to be so painful. To be reminded, in front of the world, really, that Tom was dead, and I was a widow was not pleasant. Sure, it would die down again, for them. 

But not for me. It was still common for me to cry myself to sleep. For my breath to catch in my throat when I looked at my daughter—our daughter—that he never got to meet. To quickly flip the radio station when his rough voice came on the radio. And just when I felt like I could relax a little, have a little fun, do something for myself, this happened.

My phone buzzing pulled me from my reverie. It took me five rings before I finally decided to answer. “Hi.” I said quietly.

“Hello, love,” he said in that accent of his, “I wanted to call and see how you were. If you were doing okay.” He stopped abruptly. 

“I’m okay, Harry.”

“You don’t sound okay, and I can’t imagine you actually ARE okay, considering.” I was honestly a bit surprised. Harry sounded so grown up, so sure of himself. So much confidence, and poise. I was the adult. I should have been making sure he was ok.

“Harry, I….”

“I told you last night that by today you’d be my new girlfriend,” he said with a lift to his voice that told me he was grinning as he so often did. I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “But, seriously, Georgia, I need to know you are alright.” I started to reply but he interrupted. “Really, love, not just pretending. Though, that’s stupid, because why would you ever be okay? Ah. God. I’m sorry.” I could practically hear him running his hands through his hair.

“Harry, this isn’t your fault. I’m a grown woman. With a sordid past,” I said to try and lighten the mood and I heard him laugh lightly, “These things happen. As Tom would have said, ‘it is what it is.’ There really is nothing to be done but to weather it, I suppose.”

“I know. I just wish,” his voice cracked a bit reminding me that I’m not the only one suffering here, “I just wish that Tom was still here.” 

“Oh, Harry, so do I. So. do. I. He’d know how to handle this one, wouldn’t he?” I got so lost in my own grief that I forget how many other people loved Tom. Like Harry, who looked up to Tom, so much.

“Shit. George, I’ve got to go. I’m sorry. I’ve gotta squeeze in some studio time before the show tonight. But I don’t want to go if—”

“Harry, stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine. Go on. I’ll talk to you soon,”

“Bye, then, love,” he said and hung up. 

I felt a little flutter in my stomach as he said those words. 

_Hm_ , I thought. _That was weird._


	2. New York

A few days later, at the behest of my good friend Darcy, I was out having coffee. 

“You can’t avoid fresh air forever,” Darcy said to me as we walked into the coffee shop. “I know these things suck, but you have to just face it. The more you let them see you, the less interesting it will be,” she said fiercely, as a flash went off in my face. “What the hell, you bastard?” Darcy spat at the photographer. “We’re getting some fucking coffee. Leave us alone.” 

The lone photographer sulked off—Darcy had a way of making people listen to her. “Don’t pay attention to that. How interesting can a picture of you getting a bit of coffee be?” Her personality was as fiery as her red hair and as strong as her Irish accent. I couldn’t help but feel better when I was around her. 

As we sat down to drink our coffee, I could feel people looking at me. Darcy grabbed my hand and said, “Darling, please, don’t let these idiots get to you.”

“I know, Darcy. It is just hard. The spotlight wasn’t something I ever wanted,” I whispered, “not even in the thick of it all. I just wanted Tom. Just Tom. So I put up with all of it, took it in happily. And as it turns out, it was for nothing anyway,” I choked, willing the tears to stay away.

“Don’t say that. And stop feeling sorry for yourself. Really. Let’s move on now.” Darcy was never one to dwell on things, and she started rattling off all of the things that we needed to remember for the upcoming fashion week. Working for a design firm was so much different that being a stylist for a band, but I liked the stability and that fact that travel was limited. I was actually looking forward to our newest client, a new designer with a rocker edge. As Darcy finished recounting the details, she said, “And apparently Harry is their number one fan.” I looked up sharply. “What?”

“Harry who?”

“‘Harry who?’ Are you daft? Harry Styles.” She grinned at me with her bright blue eyes, but was kind enough not to tease me. 

The headlines weren’t dropping that particular item so easily. I’d been avoiding calls for days, and even had to have a phone call with the band’s publicity team—just to make sure everyone was on the same page. Of course, they had an image to protect. Their sweet boys couldn’t be seen out with older women, and certainly not one with a past like mine. I had to laugh at that really. I knew all about the cultivated image and the media training, and how quickly all of that could go to shit. 

“Harry, right. He didn’t mention it to me. Not that we’ve been talking or anything. I have a feeling his handlers put the kibosh on that.” 

“Oh?” Darcy said as she raised her eyebrows, “If there is nothing to hide, then why would they do that?”

“Come on, Darcy. You can’t be implying that there _is_ something going on. He is a kid. _A kid_. An old family friend.”

“I would say it is a little more than that.”

“Ok. A little more than that, but certainly nothing untoward or romantic.” I could feel myself blushing. Why, why, why would I be blushing? Darcy, thankfully, didn’t comment it on it, but I could see the smile playing on her lips.

“Well, Harry is going to be at the show, anyway. He going to be modeling. Since you guys are just old family friends, I guess you won’t have a problem seeing him naked.” She grabbed her things. “I gotta run. I’ll see you at the warehouse next week.” She kissed me on the head and was gone. 

Harry naked. Right. Because I would be dressing him, I guess?

Whatever. Not like I’ve never dressed boys before. Not like I even had a hint of interest in anything romantic or sexual anyway. Because, it was just Harry. And who cares, right? Just Harry. As I picked up my things and walked out of the shop I had to will myself to stop thinking about it.

*****

The morning of the first show, I was rushing around the apartment, trying to get everything I needed. Lily’s grandparents, Tom’s parents, had come to pick her up the afternoon before. He had never met her, but his parents had been so involved from the beginning. During my busy weeks they always took her. I hated being away from her, but I knew she was well taken care of, and I really wouldn’t have much time to spend with her anyway. I grabbed the last few odds and ends, shoved them in my bag, and ran out of the door, almost forgetting to grab a jacket. It was getting cooler on the streets of New York now that it was getting to be October.

As I ran into the warehouse and into the changing room, I spotted Darcy talking to one of the models. The room was full of excitement, people yelling and laughing. Everything seemed to be under control. As I put my stuff down in my assigned corner, and organized my things, I heard someone calling my name in an unmistakable accent.

“Georgia! Hey, George,” Harry shouted from across the room. Jeez. I waved as he made his way over. He embraced me and kissed me lightly on the forehead. 

“Hi Harry.”

“Hello, love. Glad to see you.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be here until Darcy mentioned it.”

“Ah yes, the amazing Darcy. We’ve got along quite well in our chats.”

I felt a tiny, and unexpected, pang of jealousy. “Oh, I hadn’t realized you’ve been in talks,” I said casually.

“Are you jealous, then?” Darcy sidled up beside me. “Harry and I get along quite well. You didn’t tell me he was such a charmer.” Harry blushed unexpectedly. Even in his confidence he still had a bit of shyness, a bit of boyishness to him. “Right, well, I’ve got to get to my model. Looks as though I’ll have to leave the two of you to get down to business.” And off Darcy went.

“How are you getting on, Georgia? We haven’t spoken since….” He trailed off and he looked down at me through his long lashes.

“Oh, things are fine. Life goes on.”

He stepped close to me, “You seem so sad,” he said quietly, putting his hand on my shoulder, “I don’t want you to be so sad.” I stepped away from his touch, his intense gaze, nonchalantly (I hoped) and turned to face the rack of clothes. I didn’t want to cry, and his tenderness was making that hard. I took a deep breath and started pulling things off the rack.

“Ok. We need to get these fittings done. You’ll be in three different outfits throughout the show,” I said hurriedly.

“Changing the subject, then? Ok.” He said softly. 

As I turned around, I nearly dropped the hangers full of clothes I was holding. Harry had stripped down to his boxer briefs, certainly leaving little to the imagination. As I tried to compose myself, he cocked his head to the side and grinned mischievously. “What’ve you got for me?” 

Thankfully, things were moving so quickly that I didn’t have time to dwell on Harry in any way, aside from getting him dressed and into the lineup in time. The show was a whirlwind. 

When it was finally all over Darcy popped up next to me, “That went well, I think. Your boy was great. He’s hot.” 

“He’s not my boy and he’s not—”

“Who isn’t your boy?” Harry said as he threw his arm around my shoulder. Darcy just smiled at me. I shrugged out of his hold and started packing my bag. “Where are we off to now?”

“Off to?” I asked.

“Off to, as in where are we going next, Georgie. Jesus you are slow these days.” 

“Darcy. Give me a break. I’m just busy, you know. And I’ve got to get home. No late nights for this single mother.”

“Really? The baby card? She isn’t even in town. You need to go out and have some fun. Really.”

“Really?” I said sarcastically. I was not in the mood for a party.

“Really,” Harry agreed. He winked at me as he smiled. He and Darcy were obviously ganging up on me.

“ _Come on_ , Georgia. Have a little fun. The whole crew is going to the club. When was the last time you went out?”

“Fine.” I said, smiling despite myself. “Fine, let’s go.”

****

Hot, sweaty, gorgeous models were everywhere. I was on my second drink when Harry popped up next to me. “Enjoying yourself, then?” He said, indicating my drink.

“Sure,” I said. “Hopefully I can get through the night without making it into the papers this time.”

“Sorry about that. It is one thing I really kind of hate. Not one ounce of privacy. Of course, I know that is part of the deal, but it isn’t so easy on the ones we care about. The ones who didn’t sign up for this.”

“Well, Harry, the fact is, you are getting the opportunity of a lifetime. Hopefully those around you will understand and roll with the punches.” He was looking past me into the pulsing crowd of people. I don’t think he was even listening to me.

“Let’s dance,” he said as he started pulling me towards the mass of people.

“Harry, I don’t….” But I trailed off realizing he couldn’t hear me. And for some reason, I let him lead me to the dance floor. Not that there was a specific dance floor, per se. As the crowd closed around us, he stopped abruptly and turned to face me. I honestly lost my breath. In the dark lights of the club, Harry looked gorgeous. His hair pushed off his face, his green eyes flashing in the strobe lights, his white shirt, half unbuttoned with those tattoos peeking out. God. _He’s freaking 19, Georgia, get a grip._ He grabbed my hips and I gasped. I think I honest to god gasped, like some teenager in a movie. I tried to compose myself, looking away and shaking my hair around my face as if to hide. Harry was pressed close to me, our bodies not quite touching, and moving slowly, leisurely, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Which he probably didn’t. When I looked up at him, he just grinned as if everything were completely fine and normal, so I just went along with it. Why not. It was just dancing, right? 

****

The next week passed in a whirlwind. Fashion shows were big business, and busy business. Not a lot of time for messing around. I saw Harry a few times, but was no longer dressing him as I had been assigned to a different portion. He was in and out—recording the new album as he had time. We tried to have dinner one night, but it didn’t pan out. I was really more glad about that than not. I was feeling kind of weird around Harry, and figured some space was not a bad thing. 

“Georgia, my love,” Harry bowed in front of me, taking me by surprise. “Will you be attending the wrap party this evening at the hotel?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of an obligation,” I replied without any hint of enthusiasm.

“Wow, don’t sound so excited.”

“It just isn’t my thing.”

“It’ll be fun. Come on,” he pulled me along with him. 

“Okay, Harry. I’m going to go to Darcy’s room and get a shower. Get dressed and all. I’ll see you there?”

“Sure thing, love,” and then he was gone again. 

As soon as he was gone, I felt his absence. This is crazy, I thought to myself. Harry was a good kid, and I’d known him forever. Since he was born, practically. This attraction to him was just a ridiculous thing to be feeling. There was something about him though. He was so easy, so comfortable with himself, with me. So sweet. I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts as I stepped into Darcy’s room.

“Nice room, Darce.”

“Well, it’s on the company dime. And this way we can enjoy ourselves and don’t have far to go if we have a little too much fun tonight.” I rolled my eyes at her. “Seriously, Georgia, have a little fun. Go get in the shower.”

“I saw you two dancing the other night, you know.” Darcy looked at me in the mirror as I jumped and drew a crooked line of eyeliner down my face. 

“Uh, um, what?” I stuttered as I wiped the dark line away.

“You heard what I said, don’t play dumb with me.”

“It was just dancing, Darcy, I mean, really.”

“Looked pretty hot to me, is there something going on there?”

“Going on? He is 19 years old. I am almost 30. It’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” She said, as I finished putting on my make up. I ignored her.

“What should I wear?” I asked her to change the subject as I started rifling through my bag. 

“What does Harry like?” She laughed and ducked out of the way as I threw a shoe at her. 

“Cut it out, seriously. I am not looking for anything romantic, and certainly not with some kid. Now help me!” I finally decided on a pair of skinny jeans and a pair of silver flats, with a loose grey silk sleeveless v-neck that shirt that skimmed my hips. My long brown hair fell in waves around my shoulders. “Do you think this is too low cut?” I asked Darcy. I felt so self-conscious and I don’t even know why. Clothing was my strong suit. I knew what to wear and how to wear it. 

“You look amazing. Put on some jewelry.” I put a long necklace with dangling pendant of a swallow around my neck that fell in just the right place, and affixed some black leather cuffs around my wrists. “Perfect, Georgie,” Darcy smiled as we walked out the door.

The party was in full swing by the time we got there. There were so many people to talk to that I barely had time to grab a drink, but my thoughts kept wandering back to Harry. I caught myself looking for him for the next hour as one person after another congratulated us on our work or asked about upcoming projects. Suddenly, I felt an arm wrap around my waist and someone nuzzle into my neck, “There you are, gorgeous Georgia,” Harry crooned in my ear. I laughed nervously and pulled away.

“Harry, really,” I said as I turned and smiled at him. He looked down at me intently. He always did seem so interested in people, so attentive to whoever he was talking to no matter who it was. If he was talking to you, you had his full attention. It was almost unnerving. We found ourselves drifting away from the crowd to a quiet corner to talk. I asked about his dad, his touring schedule, his new album. It was nice to talk to someone who knew me before everything had happened. Someone who could maybe look at me without thinking about the famous parts of my history first. It was warm in the room, and the drinks I had consumed (two, three, four even, I couldn't remember) were making me feel light-headed, so we walked out onto the balcony and looked over the city. As I turned to face him, I realized that he as much closer than I realized. He looked at me and smiled, his gaze traveling to my neck. 

He trailed his finger along the length of my necklace, and grabbed the swallow pendant, smiling as he pulled his shirt to the side, “Swallows,” he said, and let it drop. “You look amazing tonight, absolutely,” he said in a voice a bit more husky than normal, his gaze intent. I could feel myself blush.

“Harry,” I said hoarsely. He pulled me towards him and swayed to the sound of the music pulsing from the speakers inside. I don’t know why, but I let him hold me. It felt good. I hadn’t been so close to a man since Tom. But this, this was too intimate, and I pushed him away. “Harry, I need some water, I think,” I saw a flash of something I couldn’t read come across his face but it was gone in an instant. 

“Sure thing,” he said happily and followed me into the kitchen. 

I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and as I did so, some drunk guy bumped into me, causing me to drop the glass to the floor. “Shit,” I said as I bent down to pick up the pieces.

“Dude, what the fuck?” I hear Harry say as he shoved the guy out of the way. 

“Harry, it’s not a big deal,” I said as my hand closed around a piece of glass to tightly. “Shit.” 

“Georgia, are you okay?”

“I just cut my hand is all,” I said as I ran my bleeding hand under the water running from the faucet. Harry peered over my shoulder.

“That looks kinda bad.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse,” I say casually. He grabbed my hand, and I pulled it away. “Harry, it’s fine.”

“No, I don’t think it is. You need to get that cleaned up.” He started pulling me toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“To my room. So we can take care of your hand. I’m tired of this party anyway.” 

“Um, okay,” I said as I let him lead me out of the room and toward the elevator. Maybe it was the drinks, or the loss of blood, or just the feeling of having fun after such a long time of so little fun, but it didn’t even occur to me to resist.

As we entered his room he pulled me into the bathroom, grabbing a towel and pressing it to my hand. “I think I have some gauze and some tape,” he called as he walked out of the bathroom.

“Odd things for you to carry around, Harry,” I called back.

He just smiled as he came back into the room carry the supplies. “Let’s just wash that cut. Here, it doesn’t look too bad, but there’s a lot of blood. Let’s take this cuff off—” He had taken it off before I could stop him, and he froze as he saw the scar there, looking up at me, “Georgia?” he said, almost sadly. I couldn’t look at him. My cut hand forgotten, he reached to my other wrist and exposed an almost identical scar. I just looked down at my wrists, as he held my hands in his, softly tracing the scars with his thumbs. I tried to jerk my hands away from him, but he held them in his strong grip.

“Harry,” I started to say.

“Georgia, when did you do this? Why? Or maybe that’s a stupid question, I guess.” He looked at me questioningly, wanting an explanation. 

I felt the tears pooling in my eyes. I half expected him to tell me not to cry, but Harry isn’t like that. His eyes met mine, waiting, and so, I told him. I told him how wrecked I was when Tom was killed, how I had just found out that I was pregnant. How after I had the baby and she looked so much like him all I wanted was to die. “I hate myself for this, Harry. For wanting to be gone from all of this, for even considering abandoning my precious baby. I love-loved-Tom so much it hurt, Harry. He was my everything. I didn’t want to live without him, and I tried, for 9 months to do just that, but it was just too much.” He just watched me with his eyes, not pressing me, not asking anything from me, except to know me, to feel what I felt, to understand what I did and why I did it. He just looked at me, and then brought each wrist to his mouth, kissing the scars gently as his hair fell in his face. When he looked at me again, his eyes were shining.

“I hate that you were so miserable,” he said softly, still holding my hands in his. 

“Harry.” I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I felt so safe here. I didn't understand how this kid knew exactly what to say and how to say it. 

“It’s ok. Let’s take care of your hand.” I let him wash my cut and bandage it, as I wiped the tears from my face with my free hand. I laughed nervously as he released my hand. “All done.” 

“Thanks. I should, um, go? Probably?” It came out like a question though I didn’t mean it to.

“Why not have a drink? Stay awhile. I can play our new track for you, get some input from an expert.”

“I’m hardly an expert, and I have to...well.... I guess I don’t have to do anything. I’m a free woman now that the show is over and I’m childless for the next week.” Harry winked at me as he left the bathroom and flipped the light off. 

We sat on the sofa and shared a bottle of tequila, the lights dim, reminiscing about company picnics our families dragged us to, and the rare occasions I was put in charge of all the kids including him. His band’s new album played in the background. “You know, this music, it is quite good,” I tell him. “I like it a lot. A little edgier than the other stuff.”

“That’s what we were going for, something a little more grown up. Rock. Enough of this pop shit.” 

“It isn’t shit.”

“It is. Well, I guess it has it’s place, but this new stuff feels more like me.” He talked about how much more involvement they’ve had, about writing songs, playing instruments. As the clock chimed I realized that it was three in the morning.

“Jesus. It's late. I should get back.”

“Back to what?”

“My room?”

“Your room? Why not just stay here?”

I laughed at the absurd suggestion. “I can’t stay here, Harry.”

“Why not?” He asked, with no hint of a joke.

“Are you serious?”

“What does it matter if you stay here?” 

I was drawn to him, and I was drunk, and I was vulnerable. I’d shared too much with him of myself tonight. It sounded too appealing to me, his suggestion to stay here. As I tried to stand, I lost my balance, and he caught me, steadying me with his strength. I pressed my hand to his chest to catch my balance and froze as I touched him. He brought his hand to my face. 

“Stay, Georgia,” he pleaded. 

“Harry,” I whispered, “this isn’t….” I trailed off as his long fingers skimmed the bare skin below my shirt, leaving me breathless. No one had touched me like that in so long. I hadn’t let anyone. He leaned his head down and pressed his forehead to mine, holding my gaze. My heart was pounding out of my chest. His lips pressed against mine, and I moaned quietly into his mouth. 

“Harry,” I said again as I pushed against him feebly. His arms wrapped around my waist, his hand under my shirt. I felt his warm hands against the bare skin on my back, and I shivered. My mind was racing and I knew this shoudn’t be happening, but it felt so good and so right, though I knew it was so, so wrong. He lifted my shirt over my head and he pushed me against the bed.

“Harry, please,” I begged him, though I don’t know what I’m was pleading for—did I want him to stop, or to keep going? 

“It’s ok, love.” He murmured as he kissed me along my collarbone. “It’s ok.” He stopped, leaving me breathless as he looked at me intensely in the moonlight, pulling his shirt over his head. I watched as my hands reached to his chest as if disconnected from my brain, tracing the tattoos there, and he inhaled sharply. And then he crashed into me, the gentleness replaced with intense passion. His mouth was hard on mine, hands all over my body, and before I knew it, I was pressed beneath him on the bed. Breathless, I whispered, “Maybe we shouldn’t….” His lips curled up in a smile, but the look in his eyes was serious.

“If you want me to stop,” he kissed me, “then stop I shall,” he kissed me again. “But stopping is not my preference, Georgia.” The way he said my name shattered any judgement I had.

“No, don’t. Don’t stop, Harry,” I said, and his hand slipped across my stomach and deftly unbuttoned my jeans.


	3. New York

“Fuck,” I whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered again as I banged my knee into the night stand. I glanced over at Harry sleeping in a pool of early morning sun, relieved to see he was still asleep. My head was pounding, from the tequila, no doubt, and the heat of embarrassment over last night was making me sweat. I grabbed the last of my things and slipped out of the room, glancing once more at Harry sleeping so peacefully, his arm thrown across the bed and his black tattoos covering his body. 

_Jesus, fuck, what did I do? ___

Of course, I knew damn well what I did. I just spent hours making out (and maybe a little bit more, but I couldn’t even think about that) with a 19 year old boy. What the hell. I didn’t even know what to do with myself. But my purse was in Darcy’s room, so I really had no choice but to head that direction. I slipped into the room, hoping not to wake her, but to my dismay I saw her sitting at the table drinking a cup of coffee. I poured myself a cup, willing her to keep her mouth shut, though I could see her eying me in her peripheral vision. “Fancy seeing you walk through the door this morning,” she said with more than a hint of amusement playing in her voice. “Where have you been?”

“Sleeping.”

“With whom?”

“Shut up.” I really didn’t want to talk about it. Darcy didn’t take the hint.

“I saw you leave with Harry.”

“I cut my hand, he was just helping me clean up.” I raised my bandaged hand as proof.

“And then then he loaned you a t-shirt?” I looked down at his black v-neck shirt that he had loaned me to sleep in. What the hell.

“And then I confessed my deepest darkest secrets to him, and then we made out for three hours.” I say. Darcy’s jaw dropped open. I smiled at her, pleased to have shocked her for once in my life—she didn’t need to know how far things actually went. 

“You’re joking.” 

“Nope, actually, not joking one bit. But that’s all the information you’re getting. I’ve gotta get out of here before I run into him.” 

There was a knock at the door and I went into the bathroom while Darcy went to answer it. I was touching up my make up when she walked around the corner. “Who was it?” I asked her as I turned around. She just looked at me with a stupid smile on her face and Harry appeared behind her. 

“Hello,” he said with a trademark smirk, though there was something unsettled in his furrowed brow. I just looked at him and he stared back intently, looking me straight in the eyes.

“Well, I’ve got to run, then,” Darcy said and grabbed her bag to go.

“Darcy,” I said, “Wait.”

“I’ll see you at the office darl.” And she was gone. 

“Right, then,” Harry said and swept his hands through his hair, “You forgot this.” He held up my shirt.

“Oh,” is all I could come up with as I grabbed it from him. “Um, thanks.”

“Were you running off without a proper goodbye, Georgia?” 

“No, of course not.” He lifted his eyebrows at me, as if to call me out on my lie. “Alright. I guess I was.” He stepped closer to me, and I took a step back at the same time.

“Why?” He took another step closer. His intensity was throwing me off. I backed up again and found myself pressed against the wall. I caught a glimpse of my miserable face in the mirror over his shoulder before I looked up at him.

“Well, I just….” I wasn’t typically at a loss for words. “I mean, well. I felt foolish, I guess. About what happened.”

“It wasn’t foolish, was it?” he asked as he stepped closer once again, resting his hands on my hips, hooking his fingers in the loops on my jeans, brushing his thumbs along the bare skin below my shirt. His shirt. He leaned in and kissed me lightly. “I thought it rather lovely, myself,” he said. Grinning again. That damn grin. I saw myself again in the mirror, saw Harry pressed against me, and reality pushed me forward.

“Get off, Harry. I mean, really,” I said as I shoved him away from me. He let me, looking at me with confusion. “This is utterly ridiculous, and it is completely foolish. What gotten into you, anyway?”

“What’s got into me? What’s got into you is more like it,” he accused and I felt my face flush. 

“This is not a thing,” I told him, gesturing between us. “It is _not_. It was a mistake, and we were drunk, and I am _not_ doing this. Am _not_.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” he said seriously.

“What?” He wasn’t drunk, which meant what? I couldn't even go there. “It doesn’t even matter, Harry. It was a mistake, regardless. I’m not some fan girl who is at your beck and call. I am a grown woman and I don’t know what got into me, probably the tequila,” I stopped.

“Well, I’m a grown man, and I know what got into me, and it WASN’T the tequila.”

“Jesus Harry, really? A grown man? You are 19. You are a child. A child. I hooked up with freaking child!”

“A child?” He looked wounded. And it killed me a little.

“A child, Harry. You’re just a kid.” I said anyway. I wanted him gone.

“Right, okoy. Then I’ll just be going,” he said and he walked past me and out of the door.

“Harry, wait,” I said as the door shut, suddenly remorseful for being so cruel. 

But he was gone.

****

The cold October air smacked me in the face as I exited the hotel, and I figured I deserved it. There were swarms of girls outside of the entrance. Word must have gotten out that Harry was staying there. Luckily, they were all too young to recognize me, so I escaped unnoticed; the last thing I needed was another scandal. As I walked down the block I tried to process what had happened last night. It must have been the alcohol. Letting myself open up like that was not something I did. And Harry was just so sweet. And gorgeous. I shook my head as if to rid the thought from my mind. I was just feeling vulnerable, surely that was all. All of the history being dragged up over the last few weeks, working so hard at the fashion show, I was just tired. And I made a bad decision. And for god’s sake. I was years older than him. And what was he doing anyway? He could have any girl he wanted. Why me? Regardless, I should never have put myself, or him, in that position. Harry was a good friend to me, and I had to go along and ruin it. My phone buzzed with a text from Darcy. 

_“You need to get to the office. Important meeting, ASAP.”_

I was not one to forget about meetings, and I knew there was nothing on my schedule. As if she read my mind, another text came through.

_“Just came up. Hurry.”_

I had taken the long way to work. Walking in the fresh air made me feel a little bit better, more normal. And I really wasn’t in the mood for some rushed meeting. I stopped in at the coffee stand and grabbed a cup of tea before hopping on the elevator. As I looked in the reflective doors, making sure I was presentable, I noticed I was still wearing Harry’s shirt. “Shit.” I said, as the doors opened. 

The receptionist, Caroline, looked at me with big eyes and pointed to the conference room. “You better get in there, there’s big deal happening,” she said seriously.

“Big deal? What is going on?” I asked her. She just came around the desk and grabbed my bag from me and shooed me into the room.

“Oh, good, you’re here, Georgia,” Alex, my boss, said to me as he ushered me into the room.

“What is this all about?” I said as I took a sip of my tea. And as he moved out of the doorway and I saw the group of people sitting in the room, I choked. My eyes rested briefly on Harry, who was casually paying attention to, and pulling at, a rip in his skinny black jeans, and then shot immediately to Darcy. I knew she could read the “What the fuck?” look on my face.

“Ah, Georgia,” Louis said and stood up to greet me with a hug. “Good to see you again.” Harry glanced at him nonchalantly as Louis embraced me. 

“Uh, good to see you too?” It came out as a question.

“Everyone, this is Georgia Rose,” Alex said by way of introduction. I thought he could have done a little better. “I think you’ve met most everyone, Georgia, if I understand that correctly.”

“Um, yeah. Yes. Harry and I,” Harry looked me in the eye as I said his name, and I lost my train of thought. This was bad. “Um, well, Harry and I are old friends, and I met the rest of the boys—,” Harry's eyes darkened at the word, “the guys, at their show a while back.”

“Yes, well, it seems they’ve been talking, Georgia, and have a proposition for you,” Alex said. “Well, us, but you would be taking the lead on it. Magda here,” he indicated a woman sitting at the table, “is their manager, and she is looking for someone to come on and give her a hand.” I was really confused now.

“Hi Georgia,” she said as she reached out a hand to me. She must have been about my age, maybe a little older, her blond hair streaked with pink highlights, and her arms covered in tattoos.

“Hi Magda, nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I’m feeling a little caught off guard.” I said as I tried to compose myself. I sat down and she began to explain what she was after.

“I know this is sort of abrupt, but we are on such a tight schedule, and since everyone was in town, we decided to drop in.” I nodded at her, trying to steal a glance at Harry, but he was busy joking around with his band mates. “So, our lead stylist has left us, and we’re looking for someone to take her place. You come highly recommended, as a friend of Harry’s, and of course we are familiar with your work. You’ve styled bands in the past, most famously, of course, Blind Heart,” my stomach flipped at the name, “and we are looking for a bit of an edgier vibe for the upcoming tour.”

“So, you would like me to put together some things for you, some looks to recreate?” I wanted to hurry this meeting along, “I’d be happy to put a book together for you, do some fittings, send some things along with you.” 

“Oh no, dear. We want you to come on tour with us.”

“What?” My head shot up, “On tour?”

“Well, yes,”

“This is…this is really a generous offer, but I really don’t know that I can sign up for that kind of an obligation,” I spit out. “Not that I wouldn’t love the opportunity, but it’s been so long since I’ve been on an assignment like that, and well, my daughter.”

“Georgia, we’d really love to have you, and we understand your situation. We’d make accommodations for you and your daughter. Whatever you see fit. We can get you your own bus, hire a nanny, fly out your family, whatever you need.”

“This is awfully generous. But I don’t know,” I looked at Darcy, hoping she would say something, but she just sat quietly. Alex spoke up.

“Georgia, we’d miss you but this is really a big opportunity for you, and for our brand. And we are willing to help out to make this work for you, however you need.”

“I just,” I looked around the room, my eyes landing on Harry who was looking at me expectantly, “I’m sorry. This is a big deal. And I thrilled that you are asking me.” As I looked back to Magda I said, “Can I just have a bit of time to think about it?”

“Of course, I understand. But we really don’t have much time. Can you get back to us by the end of the day?”

“End of the day? Sure. I think I can do that. I just need to make a few calls, and think about a few logistics, and those sorts of things.”

“Certainly,” Magda said as she stood up and handed me her card. “Let’s have dinner sometime, regardless of your decision. Give me a call this afternoon to let me know what you decide.” She thanked Alex and walked out of the room. 

“Georgia, we’d really love to work with you,” Louis said as he walked past me, and the others nodded their agreement.  
“Nice shirt,” Harry said as he walked past me, barely looking at me. I could see the corners of his mouth turn up though.

I grabbed Darcy as she tried to walk past me, and slammed the door, locking us off from the others. Outside of the conference room, I could see the band joking with each other, and Alex and Magda were talking in the corner. “What. The. Fuck? Darcy, did you know about this?”

“No, I didn’t, I swear. I didn’t know about it until I came in after I left you and Harry,” she said, the honesty showing on her face. “Though it seems like the perfect opportunity for you and—”

“Don’t even say it, Darcy,” I said fiercely. “It is NOT like that. It is not a thing.”

“I don’t know, Georgia, the way he is looking at you,” I turned my head around quickly and saw him staring at us, locking eyes with me through the glass.

“Darcy,” I said as I turned back to her. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, I think it is. And even if the two of you aren’t a ‘thing’ this is an awesome opportunity for you.”

“So you think I should do it?” I said quietly.

“Yeah, George, I think you should.” She said and opened the door and walked out of the room.

I followed her out of the room, head down, walking swiftly toward my office, hoping to have slipped away without being noticed. As I sat down at my desk, I reached for the phone to call my mom. 

She listened patiently as I recounted the job offer, “So, mom, what do you think, honestly? It’s ridiculous right?”

“Actually, Georgia, I think it’s great. A great opportunity for you.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

“But what about Lily? I can’t just go off on tour, traveling all over the place with her in tow.”

“Why not? You said they would take care of it all for you. If Tom was still—”

“What has Tom got to do with any of this??” I said angrily.

“Georgia, I’m just saying, if things were, well, how they were, Lily would be traveling, wouldn’t she? And this is a job that makes you happy, and having a happy mother certainly counts for something. And, I’ll be willing to come along as much or as little as you’d like, take Lily for a week or two if you need me to, whatever.”

“Ugh. You were supposed to talk me out of this.”

“Sorry, honey.”

My next call was to Tom’s parents, who echoed the thoughts of my mother, so no help there. With my head in my hands, I looked down at my phone, contemplating what to do next. Part of me really wanted to take this chance. Part of me was too scared. And part of me was cringing at the embarrassing thought of having to see Harry again at all, much less constantly. I picked up the phone and sent him a text: 

_“We need to talk.”_

Minutes later there was a knock at my door. “Come in,” I said, not expecting to see Harry when I looked up. “Oh, I didn’t expect you to come here.”

“We’re kinda trapped for the moment.” He gestured over my shoulder to the window where I could see hundreds of girls crowding the building. 

“God, how do you stand it,” I said absently. “The band had moments, but nothing like this.”

“Well, twitter I guess? All it takes is one or two people to start something like this in minutes.”

“Ah, yes, the internet. Something that wasn’t really a thing when I was coming of age.”

“Yes, well, since you are such a grown up and all,” he said sharply, very unlike him, though I thought with a twinge that I probably deserved that, and more.

“So,” I started, trying to forget about last night but having a hard time, “this….,” he looked at me expectantly, but silently, “What is this? Is this your idea?”

“My idea? Hardly.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, not that I don’t think it’s great. I think it’s lovely actually, but it, sadly, is not something I can take credit for.” 

“Then?” I asked open-endedly.

“Basically, after our little ‘affair’,” he winked, “Magda saw the papers, and our stylist quit, and she started thinking, and asking questions, and basically came to this conclusion herself. I didn’t even know it was happening until you showed up to the meeting this morning.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Harry. It’s a big deal.”

“I think you should stop being afraid and just do it. You’ve been hiding for too long,” he said softly.

“What are you?” I said. I bit my toung, not having meant to say that out loud.

“What d’you mean?”

“Oh nothing, Harry. Nothing,” I said with a sigh. 

“So, are you going to say yes?” He asked hopefully.

“I think, but,” I walked around him to shut the door, and leaned against it. “Harry, last night, it needs to be addressed.”

“I think you already addressed it, if I recall,” he said firmly, standing to go. “I’m quite sure you don’t need to say anything else about it.”

“Harry, please,” I said, not wanting things to be horrible between us.

“Don’t worry George,” he said as he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “I may be a child, but I can keep my mouth shut,” he whispered in my ear. It made me shiver. “Anyway, I’ve got to be off. Radio interview or something. See you around.” And he was gone.

Against my better judgement, but on the advice of seemingly everyone I spoke to, I called Magda that afternoon and accepted the offer.


	4. New Orleans

As I settled into life on the road, things went mostly how I expected them to go: no time for much other than work, picking outfits, making phone calls, trying to get everything shipped to the right location on time. It was crazy, but it also felt comfortable to me. They had a sold out tour and things moved so quickly there wasn’t much time for relaxing, and downtime that I did have was spent on the bus sleeping. Harry seemed to be keeping his distance at a professional level so that made things easier, too. Perhaps he had chalked our night up as one of his conquests, which was fine by me really. I was far too busy to be dwelling on school girl crushes anyway. 

After a particularly great show in New Orleans, I found myself at an after party. We usually hit the road almost immediately, but we all had a two day break so everyone felt like having some fun, me included. I felt like I had rejoined the world and was starting to feel like myself, like before. It was dark in the club as I walked in. I was wearing a pair of cut off shorts and flat sandals, with a white flowy cotton tank top. It was hot in New Orleans, despite being mid-november. My hair fell in loose waves halfway down my back, and a had gotten a bit of a tan sitting by the pool. I felt warm, and happy, and excited for a change. As I grabbed my drink at the bar, I felt someone press up beside me.

“Hello, love,” Harry said, and smiled at me, “Fancy seeing you here. I’m surprised.”

“Hi Harry,” I squeaked. Why the hell did it come out like that? “Um, hey. Just thought I’d have a little fun since I have a day off tomorrow.” 

“Georgia!” I heard someone shout. Harry was standing a little too close for comfort, though that seemed to be a habit of his with anyone, not just me. Still, as his friends approached he inched away from me.

“Hiya, Lads,” he said as they all surrounded me, talking excitedly about the show, teasing each other over various things that had happened.

“C’mon, Harry. There’s a bunch of girls over here we want you to meet,” Louis said to him and started to walk away.

“Eh, I think I’ll hang out here, not really in the mood,” Harry said.

“Harry, you don’t need to stay with me, go have fun,” I said.

“I am having a right nice time, thank you very much. What do I need to meet a bunch of girls I’ll never see again for, anyway?”

“Come on. I’ve seen you with the girls. You have a constant stream of them in and out of your dressing room, the bus.”

“Ah, well. Maybe,” he said with a grin. I was sort of hurt he didn’t seem to deny it, though I didn’t expect to feel that way. “It’s not really like that, Georgia. They don’t mean anything.”

“Well, that’s nice to say, Harry, glad they don’t mean anything to you. Poor girls.” 

“No. I mean…. I don’t mean it like that. I just mean they aren’t…. I don’t…. Well, I know what it looks like, certainly, but it isn’t like that. I don’t do anything with those girls. Sometimes, I think maybe I’ll hit it off with them, but they don’t really care about me, just who I am.” I was a bit surprised by his admission. 

“I didn’t mean to imply….” 

“it’s ok. I know how it looks. I just want you to know that isn’t what I’m like. Now, Niall on the other hand,” he gestured to the corner where Niall was intimately engaged with a beautiful blonde. “He likes the girls. Come on,” he grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd. I don’t know where he planned on taking me, but as I started to follow him, I felt someone grab my shoulder. 

“Georgia? Georgia Rose?” I stopped, Harry pulling on my arm before he noticed I had stopped to turn around. He stopped abruptly. 

“Ryan?” I said.

“I thought I heard a rumor that you’d be working for us,” he said, “Hey Styles, whattup?”

“I didn’t know you were working on the tour, Ryan. It’s been a while,” I said, smiling up at him, happy to see a familiar face—one who was actually my age. I was still conscious of Harry holding my hand and leaning into me; he had a way of possessing people. Not just me, but whoever had his attention at the moment. He craved a closeness that would make most people his age uncomfortable to express, but he did it effortlessly. It was why so many people loved him. 

I pulled away from him as I hugged Ryan. Harry observed the situation quietly, just standing and watching. 

“Are you two heading somewhere?” Ryan asked, looking from me to Harry and back again.

“No,” I started to say.

“Yeah brother, we were.” Harry interrupted, offering no further explanation. “Come on, Georgia.” I laughed nervously as Ryan looked at us curiously.

“Ok, then. See ya, man. Georgia, we’ll have to catch up soon.” And he disappeared into the crowd.

“Harry, what the hell?”

“What the hell, what? I don’t like that guy.”

“Ryan? He’s an old friend. I would like to have talked to him some more,” I told him as we weaved through the crowd. At the edge of the dance floor, Harry stopped abruptly and pulled me to him with a jerk, wrapping his arms around me. “Harry!” He let go of me just as suddenly as I looked around to make sure no one saw how close we were.

“I just wanted to talk to you, is all, and I didn’t want him interrupting.” 

“Ohhhkaaay. I hardly think….” I trailed off because I didn’t even have anything to say. “Come on, Harry, lets get a drink and dance.” I said happily and wandered off, not checking to see if he was following. Which I realized he hadn’t, once I reached the bar. Oh well. As I sipped on my drink, I saw Ryan coming towards me where I was reclining against the bar.

“You’re really looking great, Georgia.” He said as he leaned closer so we could hear each other over the music and the crowd. “I have to say that although I had heard through the grapevine that you were coming on tour, I didn’t really believe it. Boy bands don’t seem to be your scene.” 

“Oh, you know. I don’t even have a scene these days, and it was a good opportunity, so, here I am.”

“Well, maybe you can bring a little edge to these preppy bastards,” he said. 

I smacked him lightly. “Don’t call them that! They are good kids.”

“For the most part, I guess. So, what have you been up to since I’ve seen you last? It was at the funeral, I guess.” Those words brought pain to my heart, though I had to remind myself that everyone else had gone on with their lives.

“Yeah. Um, well, there’s Lily. And I’ve been working for this designer, laying low. Nothing all that interesting.”

“Well, it sure is good to see you.” He said, moving a little closer.

“Ryan! Hey, Ryan!” Ryan turned to see who was calling his name and as I looked past him, my stomach dropped to the floor. 

“Ryan, is that….” I couldn't even say the bastards name. 

“Shit, Georgia, I didn’t even think that…”

“I can’t do this. No way. Get away from me and let me go before I have to talk to that asshole.”

“Georgia, come on.” He grabbed my arm roughly.

“No, Ryan, get off me.” I said as I managed to pull away and push into the crowd before I had to face one of the worst parts of my past. As I was struggling through the crowd, someone else grabbed me. “Get the fuck off me,” I yelled as I struggled to get away.

“Where are you rushing off to?” Harry’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“What the hell, Harry, what are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re ok?” He said innocently. I started stalking away from him, grabbing a drink from a passing tray and downing it in one swallow.

“How sweet of you,” I said nastily.

“I do think it is rather sweet of me, in fact. Where are you going? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, and I don’t know where I’m going. I need to get out of here. I can’t handle this shit.” As I burst through the club doors without thinking, the warm air hit me and I was surrounded by a thousand, at least, screaming girls. “What the hell?” I said as I was assaulted with flashbulbs and shouts. I was so wrapped up in getting out of the damn club that it didn’t even occur to me that maybe this wouldn’t be the best move. Especially considering.... “Harry? Why did you follow me, what are you doing?” 

He grabbed my elbow. “Just keep moving, ok?” He leaned in to me, “And just smile. Or look normal, at least, unless you want this to blow up in your face.” He nodded to a group of girls and they just about lost their minds. I could only shake my head as I let Harry lead me around the corner and into an alley that had been blocked off for covert arrivals and departures. “There, that’s quite the improvement, I think.” Harry said as he stopped around the corner. “Now, what is going on?”

“Ugh. I just feel like maybe this is a bad idea.” 

“What?”

“Getting back into all of this. Too many opportunities for exposure, too many familiar faces.”

“Did Ryan do something to you?” Harry tensed as he asked the question.

“No, Ryan did not do anything to me. I’m just realizing….”

“Realizing what, love?”

“Nothing. Just, I don’t know. This is all so overwhelming. I should have known that I’d be better off staying in New York.” He looked at me with some hint of alarm.

“No. No, no, no. You are perfect for this job. I’m so glad you came along. It hasn’t been so horrible, has it?”

“No, Harry, it isn’t the job really. I just keep seeing all these people that I thought I’d never have to see again. And this scene is so different, it didn’t even occur to me that I’d even bump into anyone I know. It’s a small world.”

“Shall we get out of here, then? Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Ok. I think that would be great.” As if on cue, a black stretch SUV showed up at the curb and Harry pulled me in after him. Harry rested his hand on my bare thigh, and it gave me goosebumps, though I tried to tell myself it was just the shock of the AC blasting in the van. I edged away from him casually and his hand dropped away. 

“So, you wanna tell me what that was really all about then?”

“Not really. I just thought I saw someone I knew, but now that I think about it, maybe I over-reacted.”

“Oh. Ok.” I could tell he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t seem interested in pressing the matter. We sat quietly on the ride back to the hotel which, thankfully, was short. As we entered through the underground entrance, he pushed the button for the penthouse. 

“Harry, I’m going to the 5th floor,” I said as I reached for the button. 

“No you aren’t.” He grabbed my hand to stop me, and I felt a tingle go up my spine. He dropped my hand quickly. “I’m not sure you should be alone right now.” 

_I’m not sure I should be alone with you_ , I said to myself. As the doors opened we were once more in the biggest room in the place, filled with all kinds of people. Harry waved at a few people he knew as he led me down a long hallway and into a bedroom. “What are we doing?” I asked. 

“I just wanted to show you something,” he said pulling me past the bed, thankfully, and through the glass doors leading to his private terrace. “Look at the view,” he said as he gazed out over the city. It really was beautiful. “If there’s one thing I take away from this when it’s all over, it’ll be all the beautiful places I’ve been able to see. View after beautiful view.” 

“It is amazing, Harry,” I said as I joined him on the ledge. “Who’d have ever thought this would be your life, huh?” I said and nudged him lightly with my elbow. “A sweet little boy from a small town in England.” A smile passed over my lips as I thought of him as a 10 year old boy singing along to every song on the radio. 

I turned to face him, and he was practically scowling at me. “Harry?” 

He pinned me against the railing, his hands on gripping the rail on either side of me. “I’m not a sweet little boy anymore, Georgia Rose,” he said as he looked me in the eye. 

I broke his gaze and turned my face away, speechless as I felt my heart racing. _Get a grip, girl_ , I told myself. Harry reached to my face and with gentle force turned my face back to his, holding my gaze once again.

“Look at me, Georgia,” he cupped my face in his hand, gently stroking my cheek. I reached up to pull his hand away.

“Harry, this isn’t right,” I said, more breathlessly than I intended. His hand was on my neck gently holding my face so I had no choice but to look into his eyes as he touched his forehead to mine.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” he says roughly as his other hand slides under my shirt loose shirt. His cool fingers sent a shiver through me as he caressed my bare skin. 

“I don’t think—”

“Stop thinking, for fuck’s sake, Georgia, just stop thinking for one goddamn second,” he said as he brought his mouth to mine, kissing me gently. What the hell, I thought to myself, giving into it. It felt good—to feel him touching me, kissing me, to stop thinking and analyzing. My hand wandered up his neck, into his hair and I pulled him into me, pressing my hips to his, and he groaned softly into my mouth, “God, Georgia.” His hand slid down my hips and to my bare leg. I felt so exposed there on the balcony in the open air, the warm breeze blowing, pressed up against a gorgeous guy, but it somehow felt okay. I wasn’t so sure it would feel okay in the morning, or in a week, or even in five minutes, but I gave myself up to the moment. He grabbed my hair and pulled it away from my neck as he kissed along my jaw, trailing down my neck to my collarbone.

“Harry,” I moaned, leaning my head back. 

“Say my name again,” he growled.

“Harry.” Then again, “Harry.”

“Georgia,” he said breathlessly as he slipped his hand up under my shirt.

“Harry! Harry, stop! Someone is coming.” I could see the light from the hallway spilling into the room.

“Harry? Mate? You in here?” It sounded like Niall.

“Fuck,” Harry cursed as I pushed him away. “What the fuck, Niall?” He practically shouted as I jumped away from him, trying to hide in the shadows.

“What the hell, Harry? Is that any way to greet me?”

“Niall, I’m kind of occupied. What is it?”

“Have you got a girl in here, then? Who is it?” He asked cheerily, and I could see him peeking his head out onto the balcony. 

“None of your business. What do you want? Can we just get on with it?”

“Harry has a mystery lady, does he now?” Niall laughed. “I’ll go then. I was just looking for Georgia. Someone said that they saw you bring her in, but I couldn’t find her.”

“Um, I think she left.”

“Ok, then, I’ll just give her a ring tomorrow. I’ll leave you to it, mate.” I heard Harry lock the door behind him and then stalk back out to the balcony. He ran his hands through his hair nervously as he walked over to me. 

“I guess that was a mood killer, eh?” He said sheepishly, his confidence from a few minutes ago replaced with a boyish hesitancy. I moved closer to him, fingering the buttons on the shirt he was wearing—one I had picked for him earlier in the day.

“It doesn’t have to be,” I whispered, unsure of why I said it, but deciding to just go with it. I undid one of the buttons on his shirt, then another, trailing my fingers down his bare, tattoo covered chest. As I traced the lines of the butterfly tattoo at the top of his stomach, I heard his breath catch in his throat. I looked up at him and he was watching me intently, having shifted into a smoldering rock star again. His long fingers grabbed me around my waist and and I was crashing into him, his mouth coming down on mine fiercely. As he kissed my neck, his hands moving up my bare back, I gripped his arms, “Harry.”

“Hmm?”

“Harry, wait,” he paused and looked at me intently, waiting, “this, whatever this is, it’s our little secret, ok?”

“Ok,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“I’m serious. Our little secret.”

“Ok,” he agreed again with more seriousness this time, “Whatever you say, love,” he murmured and then grabbed my hand and led me back into the room. 

“Our little secret,” he repeated as he shrugged out of his shirt and walked towards me. 

“Our little secret,” he said again as he slipped his hands under my shirt and lifted it over my head. The intensity in his eyes raked over my exposed body and I could feel my skin prickling under his gaze before he stopped and looked me directly in the eyes. I held his gaze as I kicked my shoes off and unbuttoned my shorts, pushed them down my hips and stepped out of them. At least I was wearing decent underwear. Even at my worst it was one of the things that I always splurged on. He just stared at me, and I felt a new sort of confidence. Harry always seemed so sure of himself, but I had almost 10 years on him. Two could play at this game, I thought to myself, and grinned.

“What?” He said as he saw me smile. I just walked toward him and pushed him onto the bed, pulling his skinny jeans off before climbing on top of him. Leaning over him, my hair falling around our faces, I thought for a moment, searching for some shred of decency still existing inside of me. I found nothing, as he pulled my hair away from my face and pulled me towards him. His fingers trailed down my back and then back up again, leisurely caressing my shoulders and he pushed my bra straps off of my shoulders. I could feel him excited beneath me, but he acted with none of the sloppy urgency that a typical teenager would. A thought flitted across my mind that I was probably one of many—he probably had plenty of practice. As he unclasped my bra and brought his mouth to my breasts, the thought evaporated and I sucked in my breath. He grabbed my hips and flipped me over, pinning me beneath him on the bed, raised up on his elbows, looking down at me. I could feel him pressing urgently against me, but easily restraining himself at the same time.

“Georgia?” He asked. I looked at him and leaned up, kissing the un-inked space along his collarbone. 

“Our little secret,” I whispered into his warm skin, closing my eyes. I gasped as he slipped his hand into my underwear, touching me in a way I hadn’t been touched in ages. I arched into him, eliciting a groan against my neck.

“Fuck, Georgia, you’re killing me,”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth,” I smiled and arched into him again as he pulled my panties down and tossed them on the floor, and I kissed him like I meant it. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, not for a minute, love.”

As he pushed into me, I was overcome with emotions I wasn’t expecting and I felt tears escaping down my cheeks. Embarrassed, I turned my face to the side so Harry wouldn’t see. As he moved against me, he turned my face back to his, and looked at me, slowing as if to stop, “No, Harry, please, don’t stop,” I said, as he kissed the tears on my cheeks, I wrapped my legs around him, forcing him deeper inside of me, giving myself up to this boy with shaggy brown hair and green eyes that seemed wise beyond their years.

******

I woke to the sun coming through the window, my head on Harry’s chest, his legs intertwined with mine. I smiled to myself as I inhaled the scent of him. 

“Morning, love,” he murmured into my hair, stroking my naked back. I just smiled, tracing the butterfly on his stomach. 

“What’s the meaning behind this?”

“I got it to remind me of that feeling, having butterflies in your stomach, yeah? To never forget, no matter how normal all of this seems to me, or how jaded I get down the road, that those butterflies were there once.” He gives his explanation without a hint of irony or self-consciousness. 

“How beautiful,” I say honestly. “And these?” I ask as I trace what appear to be doodles on his arm. 

“Those, pretty much, are what they appear to be. Stupid doodles done by stupid friends, but I like them anyway.” I jumped as I heard what sounded like a lamp crashing to the floor.

“What the?” I felt a jolt of panic as I heard laughter down the hall. 

“Come on, lads, stop with the fooling. We’ve got work to do!” I heard someone, Liam I think, shout down the hallway.

“Fancy a bit of football, Louis?” I heard Niall call, followed by laughter, music, someone singing. 

I sat up in bed. “Shit, Harry. I didn’t even think. How am I going to get out of here?” I felt my panic gaining ground. 

“Relax, Georgia,” he said calmly. He stretched lazily like a cat and stood up, pulling his boxers up without a hint of shame and sauntered into the hallway, closing the door behind him. He reappeared moments later as I was pulling my shirt over my head. “Seems we’ve got a date with a recording studio. They’ve gone already. Coast is clear,” he said with a smile. He walked lazily over to me and pulled me close, kissing me on the forehead. “I wish I had more time, so we could have an encore,” he said, grinding my hips into mine, with a smile playing on his lips. “But alas,” he trailed off and stepped into the bathroom. “Whats on the schedule, Georgia? Will I see you later?”

“Actually, I’m flying back to New York for a couple of days, remember.”

“Ah, right. So, no repeat performance to look forward to tonight I guess?”

“Where do you even come up with this stuff, Harry? I guess you get a lot of practice, these days, what with your popularity and all,” I joked. I heard him chuckle as he turned on the water, but he didn’t respond. Something about it made me sad. I’m wasn’t naive enough to think that I was special or anything, but it kind of sucked to feel like one of a crowd in this circumstance.

“Don’t you want to join me?” he poked his head around the bathroom door, his eyes dancing.

“Darling, that would be lovely, but my plane leaves in two hours, so I’ve got to run.” As I turned, he grabbed me and pulled me to him, kissing me firmly on the lips, grinned at me, and said, “See you soon, love.”

I shut the door behind me and walked quickly to the door, anxious to get out of there before someone spotted me. Just as I pulled it open, Niall was on the other side. 

“Georgia? What are you doing? Bit early for a visit….” he trailed off and looked at me with his head slightly cocked to the side. I hoped he didn’t notice me blush as I lied to him: “Oh, I was just dropping by to leave a few things for you boys, since I’m taking off for the next few days.”

“Well, then,” he says, “since I’ve got you, I wanted to ask you a couple of things.” 

“Niall, can you shoot me an email? Or set up a meeting for next week? My plane leaves soon. I’ve really got to go. I’ll see you in…LA, right?” He nodded and I pecked him on the cheek before rushing out the door. I didn’t waste anytime hopping on the elevator. As the doors shut I saw him looking at me quizzically, no doubt confused by my odd behavior. I waved at him and wondered what my night with Harry would cost me.


	5. LA

I hopped into the car at the airport and scrolled through my calendar, only to realize that I would hardly have a minute to breath for the next few days. I thought I’d be so exhausted working so hard and traveling so much, but I was actually feeling invigorated by it. It was a little challenging working things out with Lily, but so far I had managed to feel satisfied with it all. It really wasn’t much different than if I had been working a regular job anyway. 

When I finally got to my hotel room, I threw my stuff on the bed and flipped on the television. 

“Pop star Harry Styles seen out in LA with his old flame looking cozy at a nightclub…,” the host said, and I felt a flash of anger. I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, and this was nothing new for Harry, but I was still a bit shocked that after last week he’d be moving on so quickly. I flipped off the television, chastising myself first for acting like a jealous girlfriend, and second for even listening to the gossip in the first place. Trying not to think about Harry, I hopped in the shower and tried to concentrate on the logistics of the coming days. There was a movie premier, a few concerts, and several interviews and other appearances. As I cataloged the wardrobe I’d compiled for our time in LA, I towel dried my hair and gave Darcy a call.

“Hello, Georgia, made it to LA safely, then?”

“I have. I’ve got a busy schedule for the next few days, but I was wondering if you would send out the new line of t-shirts. They weren’t ready to go when I left last night.”

“No problem, I’ll overnight them.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve just seen the latest gossip on the telly,” She said. “Seems Harry is back with that chick.”

“Oh, yeah, I caught that,” I answered quietly.

“Have you met her? Is she as daft as she seems on tv?”

“I haven’t, actually. I don’t know, do you even buy into it? They probably just happened to be at the same place last night….” I suggested, with more hope in my voice than I should have.

“Are you jealous, then?” She laughed.

“NO!” I answered, too quickly, too loudly. I heard her clear her throat on the other end.

“Right-o, Georgia. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“What, that I’m madly in love with Harry Styles?” I tried to laugh it off. “You’ve got me,” I continued sarcastically, hoping she can hear the eye rolling in my tone. “Listen, busy day, so I’ve got to run. Show tonight.”

“Break a leg,” she said. “And don’t get into too much trouble, George,” she added seriously before she hung up.

I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, pulled my hair back from my face and walk out the door to head to the wardrobe room. The room was already bustling with activity and I made my way to my corner of the room, still trying not to think about how I felt about Harry seeing his ex-girlfriend the previous night. I knew better than to pay attention to gossip, but that was kind of hard to do considering the night I had spent with Harry.

Louis was lounging on the sofa going over their set list, “Do we really have to sing this one? I’m so sick of it. And Liam always messes it up anyway.” 

Liam punched him in the arm and I laughed at the boyishness of it all as I studied the racks of clothes. Niall stood next to me, letting me hold up different shirts to him. 

“Ah, now there’s the man of the hour, as usual,” he said loudly stepping around the rack of clothes he and I were hidden behind. “Harry, you dirty bastard! How is good old Catlin, anyway?” Harry laughed good naturedly. 

I stayed concealed, not really wanting to hear the answer to that.

“Ah you know, the usual,” he answered as they all laughed. I could feel a nervous flutter in my stomach and I though of Harry’s tattoo, but shook my head at myself. I reminded myself to get a grip and stepped around the rack of clothes and into plain view. 

“Niall, I’m not done with you,” I said, pulling him back, trying to ignore the banter in the room. I looked up and smiled at Harry in greeting, hoping that my ridiculous emotions are not evident. His face fell, became serious.

“Hey, Harry, you’re next,” I told him evenly as I tried to ignore the fact that he had obviously just come from the shower, standing there in his boxers, his hair dripping, sending rivulets of water running down his chest. _Get a fucking grip, Georgia_.

“Such the gentleman,” Louis remarked. “Out with it. Was she absolutely perfect and charming?” 

Harry scowled.

“Or was she a wild animal?” Liam prodded. 

“Shut up,” Harry said. I had already turned my back and was busying myself with Niall's outfit, tossing a shirt for him to try on. Working in a scenario like this was so odd, really. It was hard to walk the line between staff and friend, though I obviously had more than crossed it.

“Aw, come on Harry, they’re just having a laugh,” Zayn said from the chair.

“Well, I’m done with it,” he said as he toweled off his hair. “Just leave me alone.”

“Well, you’re quite moody this lovely morning,” Louis told him as Harry stalked back to the bathroom. I grabbed Harry’s outfit and poked my head around the open door. 

“Harry? Here are your clothes for tonight. Can you please try them on so i can get everything sorted?” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the room. 

“Georgia, it wasn’t like that.” He said quietly, pulling me closer.

“What are you talking about?” I said calmly.

“Catlin,” he clarified.

“Oh,” I said with a wave of my hand. “It hardly matters, really. None of my business,” I said as I turned to walk out of the room. I felt his hand on my shoulder as he stepped closer to me.

“Nothing happened with her,” he said in my ear.

“Okay, Harry. Really, none of my business. I’ve gotta get back to work.” His hand dropped. “Please try those clothes on,” I reminded him and walked back to the room. The room was in utter chaos, clothes strewn all over the place, the boys getting rowdier by the moment. I hid my discomfort by taking on the roll of den mother.

“Guys, please, can you please hang up the clothes when you’re done?” I scolded. “Is everyone happy with their outfits for tomorrow?” 

After a fixing a few minor issues, everyone seemed satisfied, even a sulking Harry, so I packed up the clothes and arranged to have them sent to the arena for the concert tomorrow night.

“Ok, then, now the hard part. We’ve got to figure out what you are all going to wear to the movie premier tonight.” They boys seemed keyed up about this event. They had a song in the movie, so they would be walking the red carpet. The selections for this event were important to get right.

“It’s LA, so you guys need to go a little more formal,” I started. I heard a few groans, but I knew it wouldn’t really be that hard to convince them. “No denim is the main rule. And no t-shirts,” I threw a look to Harry who wasn’t even paying attention. “I’m under orders that you must coordinate.” This really made them groan. Though they were all in a boy band, they were not really fans of the genre or the matchiness that came along with it. 

“Come on Georgia, matching?” Zayn said.

“I actually want to look good, which none of these guys know how to do,” Louis threw in. 

“What’s wrong with matching, lads?” Niall added. He was the only one who could even remotely be considered a boy band fan. Zayn said nothing but just scowled at me. Harry was busy texting on his phone.

“I didn’t say match. I said ‘coordinate’. There’s a difference!” I said with a laugh as they all rolled their eyes at me. “Look, I’ve got plenty of options, and this really won’t be that hard or cheesy. I don’t do cheesy either. That’s why I was hired. But you are all going to be walking together, and interviewing together, and sitting together, so you can’t clash, ok?” I got a chorus of muttered “okays” back at me. Sometimes I felt like a school teacher. “Thank you. Let’s get to it then. Niall and Liam, you can come with me. We’ve got to go to the other room,” I said as I led them out of the room. I glanced in Harry’s direction but he ignored me. It was for the best, I supposed. 

Niall and Liam were also the easiest, and went along with my suggestions. Niall chose a slim cut suit with a skinny black tie, and Liam went with a simple white button down shirt with some gray slacks. I pointed to the shoe rack and let them pick from a selection of black shoes. 

“Ok, you guys are free to go. Try not to get things to wrinkled. I think you all need to be on the red carpet in an hour.” As they walked out, Zayn and Louis walked in.

“Where’s Harry,” I asked.

“Can’t find him, love,” Louis said. “I’m sure he’ll be along. You know Harry. He’s in a particularly crap mood today, though.” Zayn was already searching through the clothes. He pulled out a sleeveless black shirt and a red leather blazer. As the ‘artistic one’ he has a pretty set idea of how he wanted to look, and I didn’t argue. “Look’s good to me,” I said as he pulled on his clothes. “Louis, what are you doing??” I looked over to see him rolling up his pants. He had on a white shirt with a bow tie and black pants on, that he was rolling above his ankles. Zayn looked at him and laughed. 

“I’m rolling my pants up,” he said. 

“You can’t…,” I said with a laugh. 

Zayn said, “It isn’t worth the fight. No matter what you do, as soon as he is out of your sight, he will roll those pants.”

“Fine,” I said. “But if I get fired, I’m blaming you, Louis.” He smiled at me charmingly. “Ok, you guys can go.”

“Hey Harry,” I heard them say as they walked out of the room. I guess Harry had finally decided to come get dressed. I really wish he hadn’t come alone though.

“About time you showed up,” I said over my shoulder as I began sorting through the options I had picked for him.

“I wanted to talk to you. Alone,” he added.

“Don’t have much time for talking, Harry. You’ve got to be ready and downstairs in 30 minutes. Here, put this on,” I handed him a shirt and as I reached toward him, he grabbed my hand and pulled me close to him.

“Don’t, Harry. I don’t have time for this,” I said as I tried to pull away. He wrapped his arm around me and looked at me seriously.

“Georgia, I meant what I said.” I focused on his shoulder as he talked. “About Catlin. I was out last night, yes, and she was there, yes. But it was just friendly. It was never more than that. We went to dinner a few times, that’s all.” I looked up at him then.

“Why are you telling me this? You don’t owe me any explanations,” I said as I tried to back away again. He leaned down to kiss me, but I turned away. “Harry, I am at work.”

He dropped his head and rested it on my shoulder. “I just want you to understand….” he said tiredly. The door opened and he dropped his arm abruptly as I jumped away from him. I shot him an angry look as Liam walked in. 

He glanced at Harry with a smile and said to me, “Um. I seem to have ripped my pants.” I shook my head and handed him an almost identical pair. 

“Leave the others here so we can get Lucy to fix them later.” He pulled them off and pulled the others on, then thanked me and left. When I looked over, Harry was slouching in a chair, his hair falling around his face as he thumbed through his phone.

“Harry, you really need to get dressed,” I said. 

“I don’t want to go to this thing,” he sulked. 

“It doesn’t really matter, Harry. You have to go. And you have to get dressed.” 

“Fine,” he said sharply as he approached me and grabbed the shirt. 

“Can I trust you to get dressed and get downstairs on time?” I asked him. “I need to get ready to go.”

“You’re coming?” He said hopefully.

“Just to the red carpet part—for work.”

“Lucky you. It’ll right suck, I’m sure.” He said from the bathroom. As he stepped around the corner, I had to consciously keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. In his slim black pants, and his button down white shirt against his lightly tanned skin, he looked hot. Super hot. He had left it unbuttoned halfway down. I leaned against the wall to steady myself, shocked at myself for having this kind of reaction. He sauntered over to me easy in his self-assuredness.

“You-you look great, Harry,” I said with more self control that I felt. 

He faced me, and put his hand against the wall, leaning toward me, and grinning, his eyes sparkling. “Thanks, love.” He said. He kissed me lightly on the lips and then was gone. 

****

“All right, guys, I’ve put all your clothes on your individual racks. If you have any questions about what you’re supposed to be wearing, just let me know,” I talked over the racket. I sighed and sat down to look at the schedule sitting on the table. An interviewer was coming to talk to them as they were getting ready, so we had to get going. “Guys! Guys, come on. Please? This dude is coming in a minute and you need to get ready. Please!?” I grabbed Niall as he walked by. “Clothes. Now. Go.” I said as I pushed him toward the bathroom. “Julie still needs to do your hair.” 

“Yes, mum,” he joked and he winked at me. As I corralled each of them, the interviewer walked into the room and everyone immediately settled down. They were very conscious of their behavior when any outsider was let in to their private spaces. 

“Georgia Rose,” I heard a familiar voice say behind me. I turned and was face to face with Peter Lowell. 

“Peter.” I said curtly. I hadn’t realized he would be the one interviewing him.

“Haven’t seen you in quite some time,” he said.

“No.” I didn’t have much to say to him.

“Can’t I have a hug, for an old friend?” He said stepping towards me. I let him hug me while I stood there awkwardly. 

“That last article you wrote about Tom didn’t seem too friendly.” I spit at him. He just laughed lightly.

“Ah. Yes. Well, the truth isn’t always so flattering, now is it?” He had written a scathing article about Tom and the band right before Tom died. He had been touring with us and befriended us, becoming one of us just to get the dirt he needed to hit it big with a great story.

“Fuck you,” I said under my breath as he walked away from me. I felt more than a small bit of dread as I looked at him sitting down across from the group, settling in to ask questions. 

Things started off harmless enough, the boys fielding one or two embarrassing questions but handling it with grace. I started to relax a little.

“So, Harry,” I heard Peter start.

“Yes, Peter?”

“You know I have to bring this up, right?”

“What’s that?” Harry said playfully. 

“Your reputation,”

“Ah, my reputation,” he said, adding air quotes and grinning as the boys all jumped in with jokes.

“Give us the number, then,” Peter said directly. The boys laughed.

“I don’t kiss and tell, mate,” Harry said easily.

“More than 100?” I knew right away that Peter wasn’t going to let this line of questioning go and I was worried for Harry. No matter the truth, he had a right to some privacy.

“More than 100?” Harry repeated with his eyebrows raised and a forced smile on his lips.

“Is that a yes?”

“Give me a break, man.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t have time for that.”

“Fifty?”

“No.”

“You’ve been linked to countless women—of all ages, in fact.”

“I don’t sleep with every girl I meet.” I could see Harry getting agitated, twisting the rings on his fingers. “Now, Niall, on the other hand….” He tried to deflect the attention as Niall shoved him. 

“30?” Harry shook his head. “25?” Another shake of the head.

“I really don’t think—”

“You honestly think I’m going to believe that Harry Styles, womanizer, hasn’t fucked a slew of women,” Harry’s eyes shot up as Peter pressed him with more than a hint of malice. I could see his band mates, his friends, pressing in closer to him, trying to deflect the awkwardness, but Peter wasn’t giving up. “Come on, Harry, what’s the number? Inquiring minds want to know,” Peter pressed.

“I don’t give a fuck about inquiring minds,” Harry shot, his voice rising.

“Ah, so Harry has a temper, does he?” Peter said with a smile. I didn’t want to watch this, but I couldn’t look away. I wanted to help him, but there was nothing I could do about it. Where was Magda? I scanned the room for her as I felt the tension rising from the group. Harry put his head in his hands.

“Of course he has a fucking temper when fucking assholes are acting like fucking dicks,” Zayn shot at the interviewer. 

“Ah, the true natures of the boys next door comes forth.” Peter grinned maliciously. 

“I—” Harry started.

“You don’t need to answer him, mate,” Niall said as he put an arm around Harry, which Harry shrugged off.

“Oh, but he will,” Peter said. “Won’t you Harry? Give us that number. You weren’t unpopular in school, and you certainly aren’t unpopular now. They say there is a rotating door on your home on London.” Peter laughed. 

“This isn’t fucking funny.”

I could tell Harry was losing his composure. 

“Out with it then, lad.” Peter pushed.

Harry leaned forward, and looked at me before he turned back to Peter and answered. 

“2, okay? Two. I’ve slept with—had sex with—two girls.” The answer shocked me and I looked away from him as he turned red. Surely he was lying. He hunched over, his hands gripping his hair.

“I think that’s enough, Peter,” Magda said.

“I’ve certainly got what I came for,” he said as he packed his things and left. The room was silent. Harry hadn’t moved, his friends were sitting there awkwardly, and I was frozen in place. Harry suddenly stood up, tossing the coffee table in the air as he did.

“Fuck.” He said angrily. “Jesus. Fuck.” He kicked a chair over as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“Harry, wait!” I heard Louis say as he followed him. I could hear Harry yelling through the walls while Louis tried to calm him down.

“Well, that was quite a shitty interview, eh,” Niall said as he sat down next to me. 

“Peter is an asshole,” I said.

“Well, that’s quite obvious,” he said. “Harry…. Well, I know he comes off as sort of this god of women or something, but it’s really not like that.”

“But surely he’s got plenty of girls.”

“Plenty of girls in love with him, yes. And he rarely turns down a date. But I’ve not seen a single girl stay the night with him since we’ve been on the road. And when we’re home, he keeps to himself quite a bit. I’m quite surprised he admitted it, but I’m well aware that Harry is not a ladies' man as people would like to believe. I don’t know who those two girls are, but I don’t doubt that he was telling the truth. Harry isn’t a liar.” I was honestly kind of shocked. If there were only two, and he was being truthful, then that meant…. 

_Fuck_

“Will he be okay?” 

“Harry is always okay. You know that. He’s just felt a bit backed into a corner right now, and he doesn’t like it when someone gets the best of him. I’m sure that the story will win him even more admirers.” He said as he stood up to join the others. “Show times in 20, lads….” I heard him say. 

When Harry came back in the room, his eyes looked red, and he was nervously pacing. “Shake it off, Harry.” Magda told him. “These things will happen.” He just nodded at her. “You handled yourself just fine. It will be alright. Peter won’t be very forgiving in his writing, but it’ll be forgotten soon enough. Georgia, can you please get Harry’s clothes? They’ve got to go on.” she said as she led Harry to me. “I’ve got to run,” she said turning away with a gentle pat on Harry’s shoulder. 

"That was…Harry,” I started as he looked at me as if to silence me. “Right, give me your shirt, put this one on,” I said handing him a sleeveless t-shirt. As he turned to go, I grabbed his hand and he squeezed back without looking at me, then let my hand go as he walked away. 

“Don’t hurt him, Georgia,” I heard Louis say to me when Harry was through the door. 

“What?” I asked, too sharply. 

“I saw that, right there, when you grabbed him.” 

“I was just—,” 

“You were just trying to comfort him, yes, I know. I’m just saying. Harry isn’t how people think he is. He tries, to some extent, to keep up an image, but it isn’t really him and it takes a toll on him. He tries to be as honest and true to himself as he can be, but that isn’t always the easiest path to take, you know?” 

“I just can’t believe….” I trailed off. 

“Believe what? That he’s only slept with two people? Is that the part you can’t believe? Or the part where one of them was his high school girlfriend? Or the part where the other one was you?” 

“What?” I say, startled, the heat rising to my face. 

“Don’t worry, Georgia, secret’s safe with me.” 

“But he didn’t—he doesn’t—-he said—.” I stuttered, terrified and angry that Harry had told him. 

“Don’t worry, love, Harry didn’t tell me. He didn’t have to.” 

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. What the fuck?” I said into my hands. 

“Just don’t hurt him, Georgia, whatever this is. He is my best friend and he is a kind, gentle sort. Just be fair to him?” 

“Is it that obvious then?” 

“I wouldn’t say obvious. I just know him well. I watch him, and I see how he looks at you.” He started to walk away. 

“Louis, please,” I said, pleadingly. 

“Don’t worry, love, secret’s safe with me.” He smiled and ran out of the room. I could hear the screaming crowd and the beat of the opening music as the door opened. 

“Fuck,” I said to myself, putting my hands in my face, feeling like a piece of shit. 

**** 

I got dragged, against my will, along with the crowd as we made our way to yet another party. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but no one was accepting my excuses. I felt weary as I walked into the room, but I settled myself on a sofa in a corner of the room and nursed my beer, trying to clear my head. I wasn’t sure what to do about Harry. His earlier confession had not only startled me, but opened a whole new door in my shattered heart. He was so vulnerable, for all of his outward bravado. And I was honestly surprised. Harry could be with anyone in the world right now, and he seemed so comfortable in his own skin. It was so easy to forget that he was just 19. And here I was, 10 years older than him, not even thinking of the impact our situation might have. I had let myself forget all of this, too easily dragged back into the culture of this rock star type of life. Part of me wanted to put an end to it all, hop on a plane and go back to the safety of New York. The other part of me wanted to take Harry and protect him from the awfulness of this horrible world. He didn’t even understand the impact all of this would have on him, on his life, on his family; on the the people he chose to love and how that would affect him. 

I looked up as I heard people shout their hellos as the guys made their way into the room. Harry was noticeably absent, though no one seemed to remark on it. 

“Harry left right after our last number,” Louis said as he sat down beside me. “He wasn’t in the mood to talk to a bunch of people, as you can probably imagine.” I just nodded. 

“Good show, lads,” Zayn said as he sat down across from me. 

“Where’s Harry?” Niall said. 

“Not quite up for this. He said he wanted to be alone,” Liam answered, handing me a drink. 

“I can’t believe that fucking bastard,” Zayn said angrily. “What’s Harry ever done to him?” 

“Maybe it won’t make it into the article,” Niall said hopefully. 

“I highly doubt that,” I said angrily. They all looked at me. “Peter has a reputation of tearing people to shreds. I know that all to well.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He’s just horrible. You’re too young to even remember or know in the first place, but he is known for his heartless questions and his scathing articles. He nearly….” They were all looking at me expectantly. “Well, he nearly ruined my life once, with things that he printed. So I guess you could say I’m none too fond of that asshole.” 

“Who could say anything bad about you, Georgia?” Louis asked, the irony not lost on me.

“There are people who will work really hard to exploit everything there is about you. I know you’ve been told that, everyone has been told that in this industry. It’s different when it happens to you, though. When it really happens. Harry is lucky that his confession, so to speak, was harmless,” I said quietly. “I know it was hard for him, and he didn’t mean for it to happen, and it was horrible to watch, but it doesn’t paint him as a bad person. In fact, it will probably only make him more endearing to fans. I’m just saying, take it from someone who has been there—be careful what you say and who you befriend. It is a hard lesson to learn, and it is hard to take. And it will happen, to each and everyone of you. Your world will come crashing down around you.” I looked at their serious faces looking at me. I didn’t mean to be so morbid, and realized I was talking more about myself and my experiences than theirs. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring down the party. I’m just saying…. I don’t even know. Just make sure that you know who you are, and be true to that, and those things and people that mean the most to you? Keep them safe.” I felt my phone vibrate, and saw a message from Harry. 

_“I need you.”_

“Right. Jesus. Listen to me, going on like some old woman. Way to bring down a party, right?” That elicited a laugh from them and I stood up. “I’m going to take my downer self back to my room. Make sure you guys drop your clothes for the cleaner, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smiled at them as I left. 

I walked to my room and checked on Lily who was sound asleep, and the nanny smiled at me, “Are you okay here?” 

“Sure, darling, go on and have fun.” I smiled at her in thanks and walked into the hallway, shutting the door quietly as my phone vibrated again. 

_"Please.”_

I took a breath and headed toward Harry’s room. God only knows what I thought I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t abandon him now. 

I looked down the hallway as I knocked on his door. The floor had been secured but I didn’t want anyone, least of all someone on their team, seeing me here. He opened the door abruptly and pulled me inside. 

“Harry,” I said as I looked at him but he just pressed me against the door, silencing me with his mouth. I pushed him away. “Harry, stop.” 

“Fuck,” he exclaimed as he slammed his fist into the wall and stalked away from me. I didn’t really know what to do, so I followed him into the room. I could see a half empty bottle of vodka on the table. “Are you drunk?” 

“Wasted, in fact,” he said as he started out of the window. “Help yourself,” he indicated the bottle with a wave. 

“Harry, do you want to talk about it?” 

“No, I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” he snapped. 

“Well, then….” I trailed off. I was no stranger to drunken outbursts, so I decided to just keep quiet. I took a swig of the vodka and sat down on the sofa, watching him as he stared out of the window, his bare back to me. He was quiet for a long time before he spoke. 

“I really didn’t want you to hear that,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “How completely embarrassing.” 

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I tried to assure him. “Come sit with me.” 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come here,” he said. 

“Do you want me to go then?” I said, standing to leave. He didn’t say anything as I made my way to the door. 

“Georgia, no,” he said pulling me back to him. “Please don’t go.” He said into my neck as he began to kiss it as I relaxed into him. I felt conflicted about this. On the one hand, I should not be in this situation, period. On the other, Louis’ words were echoing through my head “Don’t hurt him, Georgia. Don’t hurt him….” I sighed realizing I was already too deep into it. He slipped his hand in the front of my shirt inching upward, slowly, gently as he pulled my hair from my neck. 

“Harry, are you sure about this? Maybe it isn’t the best thing….” He answered me by turning me quickly and crushing his mouth to mine. He pushed me down to the sofa, his face serious as he looked down at me and grinned as he slipped his hand up my thigh and under my skirt, then bringing his face back to mine. “Harry,” I practically moan. 

“I know, love, our little secret,” he whispered, and I knew in that moment that I was giving myself over to him, for whatever this was. 


	6. Somewhere on the Highway

A few days later, I was putting stuff into my bus when Magda let herself in.

“Georgia? Are you in there?” I heard as Magda poked her head into the bus. “Mind if I come have a chat?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” I sat down at the small table and she tossed a stack of paper on it.

“I’ve got an advanced copy of the article,” she said somberly.

“Is it bad?” I picked it up and started reading.

“Depends on who you are.” 

I groaned as I read the words written about Harry. “Ugh. He isn’t going to like this, but it isn’t horrible.”

“As I said, it depends on who you are.”

“Okay. So,” I prompted her.

“So, you know how these things go.” She started. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “There’s a certain image to protect, right? And everyone plays their role.”

“Of course.”

“Well, while the article will be embarrassing for Harry, it actually turns out that it makes him appear to be quite sensitive and likeable.”

“That’s a good thing,” I said more defensively than I intended.

“Well, generally, yes, it’s a good thing, but again, there is a role to play here. They all play their parts. Harry, well, you know his reputation whether it is true or not.”

“His reputation, as in he’s the sexy one, the ladies man, the one who will take you home and fulfill your wildest dreams,” I answered. 

“Yes. And so, this sweet, wholesome, I’ve only slept with two girls stuff doesn’t quite fly. The fans don’t want wholesome Harry. Not quite, anyway. Of course, the younger girls, and their mothers, will like it. But the older ones? The ones we’re trying to pull into the fan base? They want to be ravaged by Harry. They WANT to see him with a different girl every week. They want the fantasy that he will take you back to his room and have his way with you.”

_Don’t I know it_ , I thought, hoping that she didn’t see me blush. 

“In short, we have to address this.”

“That seems rather unfair, Magda,”

“You should know that this business isn’t fair,” she said, not unkindly.

“So what do you need from me?”

“I just need you to play up the dark, sexy angle more. He is going to have to go out more, make some bad decisions, misbehave, take some girls back to his room,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Magda, really, isn’t this a bit extreme? He should be allowed to be who he is. People love Harry.”

“I agree with you, that he should be allowed to be who he is, but you are working for a machine now. We have to pull this off, like it or not, or we won’t have jobs come January. I know he is your friend, and I know you want to protect him, but that isn’t how this works. I need you to help with this. If he can’t fulfill the role he needs to fill, they’ll find a reason to get rid of him, and they’ll find someone to replace him. Do you think he’d rather that?”

“I don’t even know. He…he’s just a kid. It seems so cruel to force this.”

“It does, doesn’t it? But unfortunately we have no choice.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“No, not yet. I don’t think he’s going to take it all that well, so I was putting it off, but I’ve gotten orders from the top now, so I can’t put it off much longer.”

“Do you, um, want me to talk to him?”

“If you’re up for it, sure. Doesn’t matter to me, someone’s gotta do it. Maybe it’ll be be better coming from you. Since you’re his friend, at least, and since—”

“And since I lived it once?” I said.

“Yes. Since you know what it’s like. Maybe you can guide him a little. Maybe we can limit the casualties. Preserve something of Harry before it ruins him.”

“God. This absolutely sucks.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” She said quietly and stood up. “And Georgia, there’s something else.”

“That’s not all?” I groaned. “What else could there possibly be?”

“Louis and Harry.”

“What?”

“Louis and Harry are rather close, you know?”

“Well, they are quite good friends.”

“There is a strong contingent that believes they are much more than that,” she said.

“What?” The shock in my voice was probably just as evident on my face. “I mean, not that I would have a problem with it if there was, but that is ridiculous.”

“I know it, you know it, we all know it. But again, big bad management is not pleased. So, maybe you could mention that to him too? We’re going to be keeping the two of them pretty controlled from here on out.”

“Jesus, Magda. They are kids. Gone from their families and friends for months at a time. Of course they’d bond with each other. And now you are trying to take that away from them as well?”

“Georgia, these guys, this band, has a shelf life. You know that as well as I do. When they signed on to this, they agreed to certain things, including image management.”

“But—”

“But what Georgia?” She said harshly. “Like it or not, kids or not, they signed up for this, and the company owns them. If we do this carefully we can try to prevent a horrible spiral, but that’s really the best I can do. I don’t like it any better than you do, but if it isn’t us, it’ll be someone else.” I just nodded at her. What else could I say?

“Ok, Magda. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“Good. Thank you, Georgia.” And she stepped off the bus.

****

As I got dressed in the cramped bus, I tried to think about what to say, how to address this with Harry. I fought back tears as I considered what this might do to him. Knowing what it did to me, and to Tom, and to everyone else. It was all just a bunch of contrived bullshit built to make some idiot in a suit rich. They didn’t care that they were playing with the lives of kids, as long as they brought in the money. Part of me wanted to warn Harry to run away as fast as he could, but I knew that would do no good. As Magda had indicated, the best thing would be to try and coach him through this as best we could and hope that he, and the rest of them, would come through it without too much damage. I stepped into my jeans and pulled on my boots, and grabbed a jacket as I stepped out into the night.

Dinner was not as intimate an affair as I had thought. It seemed like everyone was at the restaurant, and instead of being able to enjoy a meal, there were fans, reporters, and every other person under the sun there. I couldn’t get a moment alone with Harry or anyone else for that matter. “Have you had a chance to talk to him yet?” Magda asked as she sat down next to me and handed me a drink. “Here, I thought you could use it,”

“I haven’t had a chance to even say hello to him, much less talk to him.”

“Well, it needs to be done before we get to San Francisco.” 

“We’ll be there by morning, Magda.”

“I’ll make sure he rides with you tonight, then. That won’t be a problem for him to crash on the bus there, will it?”

“Um, no, I guess not.” I was certain it would not be a problem for him. 

****

Hours later, I wearily climbed back into my bus, wishing I could sleep for days, when I heard Harry calling my name.

“Magda said I was riding with you tonight. I must say, I was surprised that you are now using Magda to summon me,” he said with a grin. “I thought we were keeping things under wraps.” He smiled wickedly and bit his lip.

I grabbed his shirt. “Get in here and shut up,” I hissed.

“Oh, is that how it is then,” he said playfully and was on top of me as soon as the door was closed. 

“Get off, Harry,” I said under my breath as I pushed him off. “We need to talk. I didn’t summon you.”

“So you didn’t want to see me then?” He seemed wounded.

“It’s not that, but something has come up. Just go sit down, and I’ll be right back.” I stepped into the cool-for-LA air and breathed deeply, wishing I was anywhere but here. Memories of my previous life were getting dredged up at an alarming rate, and I was starting to regret this stupid job and my stupid life. I had little choice at the moment though, so I steeled myself for what was to come, went and talked to the driver, and decided to get down to business.

“Harry,” I called.

“Back here,” he called from the back of the bus. I stepped into the makeshift room taken up mostly by a huge bed. Harry reached out and pulled me on top of him, gripping my hips to his and kissing me. I pulled away from him, and looked down into his sweet green eyes and took a deep breath as I rolled off of him and sat on the edge of the bed to pull my boots off. He had slipped his hand inside my shirt and was running his fingers along my spine. It felt so good that I thought for a moment that maybe I could put this conversation off, but I knew that there was no sense in delaying the inevitable. I grabbed his hand and set it on the bed as I turned to him. 

“Harry, we need to have a serious conversation.” 

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” he said as a cloud passed over his face.

“I can guarantee you won’t like what I have to say, but it needs to be addressed,” I started.

“Are you breaking up with me?” He said, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Breaking up with you? But we aren’t even together, Harry. Not really,” I said softly.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood, here. You’ve quite ruined it with your seriousness,” he said as he tried to pull me to him. I resisted though, as I thought about what to say.

“I’m just going to cut to the chase. We’ve got an advanced copy of the article.” He seemed uninterested. “Peter’s article?”

“Fuck. Is it horrible?” He asked.

“On the surface, no.” I said guardedly.

“You’ve read it, then?”

“I have. And honestly, it really isn’t that bad. I mean, I can see you might be a bit, um…,”

“Embarrassed?” He supplied.

“Er, yes, embarrassed. I know he really pushed you and you said some things you didn’t intend to say, but what’s done is done.”

“We never really talked about it, but—”

“This isn’t about us,” I cut him off. “Please just let me talk.” I recounted to him the basics of my conversation with Magda, trying to make it sound not quite so awful, but probably not succeeding so well at that. 

“Isn’t this some shit,” he said as I finished, sitting on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but you have little choice, unless you intend to quit. Which, legally, you can’t really do.”

“Why can’t I just be who I am?”

“Because, it doesn’t work that way. At some point, the business becomes too big and everyone has to start playing their intended roles.”

“Roles? But, aren’t we just to be ourselves?”

“Yourselves, yes, but, as you are yourselves, you carve out roles at the same time, and you have to stick with those roles, or the thing starts to fall apart.”

“Fuck this. They don’t own me.”

“Actually, Harry, they do.” I said softly. “Listen, I know how much this sucks. I have lived this life, and it is not fun.”

“No. This part seems decidedly not fun. But, I guess it has to be this way? I can’t really run from it, it seems.”

“You can’t. We’re going to try and help you through this. You have to understand though that it can get really bad.”

“Ah, how bad can it be, really? Go on a few extra dates, drink a little too much once in a while?”

“How bad can it be?” I wondered if it would be worth it to even tell him how bad it could really be and almost stopped myself, but then realized with cold certainty that I wished that someone had told me how bad it could be.

“How bad can it be? It can ruin your life if you let it, if you aren’t tremendously careful,” I said seriously.

“Come on,” he said smiling at me as he pulled me towards him, “Let’s forget all of this and have some fun.”

“No, Harry, you need to take this seriously and understand,” I said as I pulled away from him. “This seems like a game, but it isn’t. This is your life now, and the fun and games are over.” I honestly felt like I was stomping on a puppy. “It’s not to say you can’t goof off and enjoy yourself, have fun at your shows, joke around, but things are taking a turn and you have to prepare yourself. They will throw girls at you—”

“There are worse things,” he said playfully.

“God, Harry, please, please take this seriously. They will throw girls at you. They will pay girls to be with you. They will force you to go to parties, they will make up drama about your family. They will offer you booze, and drugs and more and more money. And you have to play the part. You have to be yourself in private, and their puppet in public. They will pay photographers to stalk you. It won’t just be adoring fans asking sweetly for autographs while you swim in a pool. They will write horrible things about you, and they will write lies about you. They will write truths about you too. Truths you think are private, that you think you confided in a dark room with to a girl you love. They will twist things so that you are constantly having to explain yourself to your friends and your family. I know you’ve had a pretty easy go of it, and you’ve had some struggles, but this is a whole new game.” I was almost breathless. 

“God Georgia, do you even….? Are you saying this is what happened to you?”

“This isn’t about me, Harry, but I’ve lived it, yes, and I am trying to prepare you because I care about you and you are good and kind and lovely and perfect.” His hand trailed up my arm and he pulled me against him as we laid down. 

“Georgia, please don’t be upset.” That was Harry, always concerned about someone else. 

“Harry, you need to understand, is all. You weren’t there so you don’t know, though I know you always looked up to Tom. Our life was not as pretty as it seemed, and you were too young to read the stories and understand,”

“Tom loved you,”

“Tom did love me, and I loved him, but in the end, I’m not sure it was enough.” He rolled to his side and looked down at me seriously, tracing his finger along my face. “There were girls, and boys, and stories, and drinking, and drugs. Lies, and truths, and fantasies. I don’t doubt that Tom loved me, not for one moment, because I was there for real life, the real moments. But I can’t pretend for one second that I didn’t doubt him in my dark moments. And he doubted me. Our trust in each other was eroded with each blow we were dealt. They set us up to create a story, and in the end, it destroyed Tom, and nearly destroyed me,” I added. “Our life isn’t your life—I’m not saying that. But I just want you to understand that when we step off the bus in San Francisco, things are going to be changing, so you need to be prepared for it.” I reached up to touch his face and pull it toward me. “Do you understand?”

“I understand, Georgia. I think I do.”

“Just, try not to let it change who you really are, okay?”

“I won’t.” 

I smiled at him, wanting to believe him, knowing he meant what he said, understanding that he wouldn’t be able to stop it from happening. 

“That’s enough of that, then. If things are going to be changing, I want to take advantage of being trapped on this bus with you,” he said as his hand moved to unbutton my jeans.

“Wait,” I said as I grabbed his hand to stop him. “There’s something else.”

“Haven’t you said enough? Can’t it wait? Let’s have some fun, love, before my world ends.” He kissed me, his minty tongue sliding into my mouth. I knew I had to address the Louis situation, but as Harry climbed on top of me, I let it drift from my mind. 

As we lay there after, a familiar grin on Harry’s face, he said, “Say, maybe instead of all of this other bullshit, I’ll just start going out with you. That’ll give them what they want, yes? An older woman, my stylist. That’ll be a shocker.” He laughed. 

I smiled at him, and said sadly, “I don’t think that would go over well, darling. I think that’s a little more than even they’d bargain for.” I sat up and started to get dressed. We would be arriving soon. As he stood up and pulled on his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head, I watched him, thinking that as he stepped off the bus in a few minutes, things would never be the same.

“Harry,” I started as I walked over to him. He grabbed me too him and kissed me again and I let him. “Harry, there’s one more thing,” I said as the bus lurched to a stop. 

“Ah yes, that other thing. Let’s have it, then,” he said. I was fairly certain that this would break his heart.

“Louis.” I said.

“Louis?” He repeated with confusion in his voice. “What about Louis? Oh, you mean the fact that he and I are secret lovers,” he asked with a laugh. “We were just having a laugh about that. Just a bit of fun, really.”

“Harry, I know that. Your friends know that. Even fucking management knows that.”

“Right, then, no problems there.”

“No Harry. It needs to stop.”

“Stop? There’s nothing….” Realization started to dawn on him as I watched anger come across his features. “Fucking shit. Louis? Really?”

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Does Louis know?”

“I’m sure Magda will have talked to him by now.”

“What the fuck?” He said angrily, pacing in the small space of the bus, running his hands through his hair. “He’s my best fucking friend in this pile of shit. Surely they can’t deny me that?” His voice was rising. 

“Harry, when you step off this bus, it’s a whole new world. You and Louis will not be kept apart, but you won’t be allowed to be together either.”

“What the fuck kind of riddle is that, Georgia?”

“No more jokes, no more apartment together in London, no more cheering at his charity football games from the sidelines. No more inside jokes, no more interviews together, no more hanging out together in public without the other guys along. No more, Harry.”

“Fuck,” he said as he kicked the door open, letting in a cool burst of San Francisco air. “And you are in on this, huh? You think this is a good idea?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,”

“No, because you work for them too, I guess, right? And all of this? You and me? Is this some contrived bullshit, too?” I wanted to reach for him but I knew I couldn’t.

“Harry, be quiet,” I said glancing out of the door.

“Fuck being quiet. This is probably the last conversation I’ll ever have that isn’t fucking scripted.” 

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so, so sorry,” I said as I stepped toward him, but he backed out of the bus as he looked up at me.

“Don’t fucking talk to me. Jesus. Can I trust anyone, Georgia?”

“Of course you can, Harry, I’m just—.”

“You know what, don’t even try. Thanks a lot, love. Fuck this shit.” He said, and stormed off.

“And so it begins,” I said sadly to the empty space in front of me.


	7. Las Vegas

San Francisco, Sacramento, Reno, Salt Lake City, Denver, Albequerque, then Phoenix passed in a blur of sold out shows and long bus rides. Seven cities is an many days.  There had been a noticeable shift in the tone of things, but no one commented on it out loud.  Harry wouldn’t look at me, and would only speak to me if it was absolutely necessary.  There was a stiffness, too, between him and Louis that wasn’t there before.  In private moments, they still seemed quite the same, but in any public situation the wall growing between them was painfully obvious.  The dynamic had changed and everyone could sense it; you could see certain confusion in their faces as familiar rhythms and patterns were disrupted.  I didn’t know how much the others had been told, but I’m sure they were all told something judging by the slight changes in their demeanor.  The article wasn’t due to come out for another two weeks, and there hadn’t been much time to work on Harry’s public image, but I knew it was coming.  Las Vegas was next on our itinerary.  There were three live shows there that week, but plenty of time for playing too.   _And what better place than Sin City to start the grand transformation?_ I thought bitterly.  

I found myself really missing Harry’s companionship—not just the physical stuff, but the friendship we had that made me feel not-so-alone—but I tried to push it out of my head.  I could understand where he was coming from and I didn’t want to force anything with him.  Either he would come around or he wouldn’t and there wasn’t much I could do about it.  It wasn’t my place.  I busied myself with my work, and with my daughter, and kept things light with the band when they were around.

On the long, quiet drives between cities, after I had put Lily to bed, I would stare out of the window at the expansive emptiness and let the sadness come.  Sometimes I would call my mother, if the timing worked out.  I’d put my headphones in and try to get some work done.  I’d text Darcy and ask about office gossip to try and distract myself.  If someone has asked me what was making me sad, I wouldn’t have had answer; there were too many things to name.  On top of that, I was so lonely and where things had been so light and so hopeful such a short time ago, they were now heavy and ugly. I wanted to believe that this was just a temporary thing and that the situation would improve, but in reality I didn’t have much faith in that.

As the sun came up and we arrived in Las Vegas, I was glad to have the comforts of a hotel for a few days.  After I had checked in and my bags were brought up, the dressing rooms all arranged, I met my mother at the airport to hand Lily off.  After this week in Vegas we would be heading back to NY and then breaking over the holidays, so I decided to send her home ahead of me.  

When I got back to the hotel, Magda was waiting for me in the dressing room.

“Hi Magda.”

“Hello, Georgia, do you have a few minutes?  The boys are just settling in, but they should be down in a few minutes.  I just wanted to go over the wardrobe with you.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Have you enjoyed your time here with us, Georgia?”  She asked as she nodded at my choices.

“I have.  It’s been a challenge for me, but I really appreciate the opportunity.”  It wasn’t entirely a lie.

“Well, I think you’ve done a tremendous job, and I’m hoping you’ll stay on for our European tour,” She added.

“Oh.  Well.  Wow.  I didn’t know that was an option.” I spurted.

“Well, you have a good rapport with the boys and you manage to find a good balance for them in terms of expressing themselves but fitting in.  They like you.  I know things have been…tense…for you and Harry this last week,” I suddenly felt hot, “but I think he’ll come around.  I know it wasn’t easy for him to hear what you had to tell him.”  She shook her head a bit sadly.  “Still, we’d really love it.  Before you start protesting,” she started as I opened my mouth, “we’ll arrange a flat in London for you to serve as home base.  We’d need you to fly out the second week in January.  I’ve spoken to your nanny and she would be glad to continue on with Lily.  We’re even prepared to rent a flat for your mother as well, if you’d like to have that option.  If you are willing to come along, I’ll provide all the details for you before you make a final decision.”

“I think I’d love to,” I found myself saying.  I could tell Magda was slightly surprised at how readily I agreed; I was downright shocked.  She didn’t leave a window for me to backtrack.

“Great.  I’ll work out the details and send them over in the next day or so.  Now,” she said barely pausing, “there’s something else we need to talk about,”  She tossed a list on the table and continued speaking, “Las Vegas begins phase one of Harry’s transformation.  We want to push things out ahead of Peter’s article.”  I looked over the list of dates, set-ups, dinners, appearances, and events and gasped as I looked up at her.

“Jesus, Magda, this schedule is going to kill them.”  She ignored me and went on.

“The things you need to concentrated on are these,” she said as she indicated the highlighted items.  “Aside from the shows, of course, you need to make sure that they are set for the club appearances.  And you need to make sure that Harry is set for these,” she indicated a separate list.  It seemed Harry would be going out solo on at least a few occasions and he needed to be dripping with sex appeal.  “Can you prep him for this, Georgia?”

“I am really not qualified….” I said, the horror probably evident on my face.

“No, no, he’s been ‘officially’ prepped.  I mean, as a friend and a mentor.  Can you help him?”

“He isn’t exactly talking to me,” I said dryly. “He hates me.”

“He hardly hates you, darling.  He’s just angry.  I’m going to send him by later today.”

“Great,” I said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

I spent the rest of the day pulling things from various racks of clothing, making notes on what I needed to shop for or request from the office, and trying not to worry too much about meeting with Harry.  I was deep in thought as I heard the door open and close.

“Harry!” I said with faked enthusiasm. “Great! Glad you’re here!  Magda said you’d be coming by.” I had decided to just go full force and hopefully prevent too much awkwardness.  I started holding different things up to him and he stood there darkly.  “So, I’ve pulled some things for you, and I think that it would all work.  You’ve got your own thing going, which I think works for us.  We just need to make sure that you play it up a little more, ok?” I asked, not looking at him.  

“Sure, whatever,” he said sullenly.  

“Oh, cheer up, Harry.  It really won’t be so awful.  You just need to go out and make sure you have fun.  We’re in Las Vegas, after all.  What better place?  Can you try these pants on?” I handed him a pair of leather pants as he pulled down his jeans and yanked them off.  “It’s not as if you’re shy, obviously, so, just go out and be yourself.  Just with a little bit of a dramatic flair or something.”

“I don’t like these,” he said looking at himself in the mirror.  “I want to wear my jeans.”

“Fine.  Jeans, but you can’t wear the ripped ones,” I said, tossing him a fresh pair of pants. “And wear this shirt,” I handed him a white v-neck. “And put this black jacket over it when you go out tonight.  Your regular accessories are fine.  Let’s see.  Right.  When you go to the tattoo parlor tomorrow afternoon, just wear the same clothes.”

“The same clothes?”  

“Yes, Harry.  Just wear the same outfit.”

“I’ll be doing the ‘walk of shame?’  To a fucking tattoo shop?”  I didn’t answer him.  He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me.  “I’m sorry, George.”

“I’m sorry, too.” I turned to him as he brought his head down and dropped it to my shoulder, pressing into, me his breath fast and warm on my neck.

“I’m sorry I was so horrible to you.”

“Its ok, really.  I understand,” I said as I turned toward him, twined my fingers in his hair.  I pulled his head up and kissed him softly.

“Can I see you later?  If I have to make it look like I spent the night with someone, I might as well spend it with you.”  

“They’re going to be watching you like a hawk.  It probably isn’t a good idea.”  I put my hand on his face.  “Remember, Harry, our little secret,” I whispered to him.  “It won’t do anyone any good if this sort of thing gets out.”  He grabbed me roughly as he pressed me against a wall and kissed me, before stepping away abruptly and leaving me panting.  

“Bet you’re sorry you turned me down, now, love,” he said, back to his old self, a wicked grin playing at his lips as he grabbed his pile of clothes and left.

That night, as Harry and his friends partied in the VIP section, Magda and I sat on the sidelines observing.  It really wasn’t something I felt like watching, but it seemed to be one of my new job duties, so I did what I had to do.  I watched as a tall slim blond girl leaned into Harry as he grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her close to him, dancing to the beat in the club.  I cringed inwardly as I took another sip of my drink.

“You know, if you think about it, it really isn’t that bad,” Magda was saying.  “Harry just needs to be himself for the most part.  He just has to ramp it up a bit.”

“For now, Magda, but I worry about what comes after that.  How long until he falls in love with a real person?  And then has to watch that person get torn to shreds?  How long until he starts hating himself when he looks in the mirror?”

“Ah, he’s young.  He will recover.”  

I tried to believe her, but I was young once, and I hadn’t recovered yet.  I wondered, bitterly, exactly how long the recovery was supposed to take?  Until I was dead?  I looked over to where Harry was dancing before, and noticed the slim girl leading him away from the group.  My stomach clenched and I felt like throwing up.  I’d like to pretend that it was because I was worried about him, but in truth, I was worried about me.  I was falling for this boy and I hated myself for it.

****

When I checked twitter the next afternoon, I couldn’t avoid the pictures of Harry from last night, and the headlines:  “Harry Styles Leave Club with Mysterious Blond,”  “Harry Styles spotted at tattoo parlor,”  “Who is the woman who took Harry home?”  “Harry gets inked again.”

“Ugh,” I said to myself as I walked into the dressing room.  It was filled with people, as usual.  I scanned the room but didn’t notice Harry.  I couldn’t tell if I felt relieved or disappointed.  Regardless, there was work to be done since there was a show in 2 hours and they had a press conference immediately before.  “Ok, guys, we aren’t going to have time to change between the interview and show, I don’t think, so just take what you’re going to wear tonight.  If you need anything before you go on, I’ll be backstage tonight.”  I handed out their clothes to them.  “Has anyone seen Harry?”

“He’s probably occupied with Blondie,” one of them laughed good-naturedly.  I felt a jolt of annoyance.

“Well, he needs to get his clothes, so if you see him, send him in here.”

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Georgia?”  Niall teased.

“Oh, leave me alone!  I’m just trying to get a job done here.  It helps if everyone would be where they’re supposed to be, is all.  So.  Please.  When you see Harry, please send him here.”

“I’m here, I’m here.  Sorry,” he said as he pulled his shirt off and replaced it quickly.  “I’m ready, see?”  And then he walked off again.

****

“So, Harry, we heard you were out getting a tattoo earlier today,” I heard the interviewer say just as I stepped into the room.  It wasn’t a big space, and some of the boys waved to me as I came into the room.  “Hello, Georgia!” One of them announced loudly.  

“That’s Georgia, she picks our clothes for us.” Niall said cheerfully.  I just smiled and wave at them, hoping they’d just get on with the conference.  

“So. Charlie?  You were saying?” Harry has turned on his usual charm for this interview.

“Yes, Harry, your new tattoo.  We were wondering would you tell us what it is,” Charlie answered.

“Of course, of course,” Harry agrees as he pulled his shirt collar to the side exposing his collarbone.  “It says, ‘our little secret….’”  He said with a grin as he made eye contact with me.   _What the?_   I looked away.  

“And what does it mean, Harry?”  Charlie followed up.  I couldn’t help but look up again.  I wanted to hear this, needed to hear it.

“Basically, a girl said it to me once, and I quite liked it, so there you have it.”  I gasped with relief. It was a vague enough answer.  I felt my chest constrict, though I couldn’t quite tell why.  It was a sweet thing, and awfully hot.  But it scared me because he shouldn’t be getting tattoos that remind him of us.  I caught my breath as the reporters were ushered out of the room and the boys headed past me toward the exit.  He just winked at me as he walked by.  

The next days passed in a blur of work, show, party, scandalous Harry article, show, party, club, work.  Finally it was the last night in Las Vegas, and everyone was feeling a bit more relaxed at the prospect of a break.  We were flying back to NY for a talk show appearance and then everyone would have close to a month off.  The relief was apparent.  

Harry seemed to be taking to his new ‘job’ rather well.  Too well.  I know I had no right to be angry, but I was anyway.  I felt discarded, tossed out, old.  As I dressed for the party, I decided I’d have a little fun of my own tonight.  I told myself that Harry and I had just had a few silly nights together, and we certainly weren’t an item; I repeated this to myself over and over as I pulled on black lace dress.  It hit about mid-thigh, and hung loosely from the empire waist, swirling gently around my hips.  As I slipped on my black pumps, I felt rather pleased at my appearance, and I made my way to the party.  

The blond girl from earlier in the week was hanging on Harry, and I figured they had actually hit if off.  I moved past them waving hello, and made my way to a group of co-workers in the back of the room.  I didn’t notice if Harry saw me or not, but I resolved to not care.  After several drinks, I found myself in a corner talking to a rather nice, very handsome, stage manager who had been working the shows. I was pretty bored with listening to him go on and on about stage management but I tried to feign interest.  I drank some more though, and smiled along as if he were the most interesting person in the world.  He moved in closer to rest his hand on my hip.  I saw Harry glance in our direction with a serious look on his face, his brow furrowed, but I couldn’t tell whether he saw me or not, and at that point, I didn’t really care.  I was a grown woman and should be keeping the company of grown men, not stealing innocent kisses under the bleachers.  

I put my hand on top of John’s ( _I think that’s his name_ , I thought) hand and said, “Do you wanna maybe get out of here?”  

He grinned and said sure, and let me lead him through the mass of people.  I stumbled a bit as we walked to the elevator, and thought I heard someone call my name, but I ignored it.  I leaned into John, or whatever his name was, and grinned coyly.  As we stalked down the hall toward my room, I saw someone leaning on the door.  It was Harry, without a doubt.  He straightened up as he saw us coming down the hallway.

“Harry?  What are you doing here?”  

“Hey, James.  How’s it going, man?”

“Hey Harry,” James (not John) said casually.

“Mind if I steal Georgia here?”

“Well, actually Harry,” I began, as I tried to reach past him to get into my room, still holding onto James-not-John’s hand.  “We’re kind of in the middle of something.”

“Well, I’m having a wardrobe emergency, so, it’s kind of important.”  

“What?” I looked at him like he was crazy as I dropped James’ hand.

“See?  I’ve ripped my pants, and we’ve got pictures going on, and all of that, so, I really need your help.”

“Give me a br—”

“Sorry mate, you understand?  These stupid things….  And Georgia is the only person I can find,” he said innocently.  

“Sure, Harry,” James said with a hint of disappointment; he dropped my hand, “Duty calls, Georgia, maybe some other time.”  And he disappeared into the hallway.

“What the fuck, Harry?” I said as I opened the door.  “Your pants are supposed to be ripped.  This is not okay.  You cannot just pop in and interrupt things all the time.”  He had an amused look on his face.  “You shouldn’t even be in here.  This is not professional.”

“Who said anything about professional,” he laughed.  

“This is not funny Harry!” I yelled at him.  In a moment he was against me.

“Who said anything about funny, Georgia,” he said roughly.

“Harry,” I whispered.

“I love it when you say my name like that.” His hand slipped around my back, pressing me to him.

“Harry, this isn’t—we shouldn’t—we can’t,” I couldn’t get a coherent thought out as he put his other hand on my face.

“Georgia, please.”

“I can’t,” I said unconvincingly.

“Dammit, Georgia.”  He slammed his hand against the wall making me jump.  

“Harry, I think you should go,” I said gently.  I _did_ think he should go, but I’d be lying if I said I wanted him to go.  

“Do you want me to go?”

I kept my mouth shut and my eyes trained on his mouth, unwilling to meet his eye.  

“Yes,” I lied.  

Staring at his mouth was a mistake.  All I could think about was his lips on me. He held my chin and turned my head up.  

“Look me in the eye and tell me you want me to go, and I’ll go.”  He was losing his composure, I could tell.  But I also knew that if I told him to leave he would.  

“I can’t,” I whispered. I couldn’t look him in the eye and lie to him.  I just couldn’t.  I should have.  I should have sent him away and never looked back; I knew that if I really and truly had his best interests at heart, I would have done just that.  But the alcohol and my unending loneliness, and the way he touched me and looked at me….  I was not strong enough to do the right thing.

“Then I’m not going.”  He said as he crushed his mouth to mine.   I ran my fingers inside his shirt, and felt him wince as my fingers found the sensitive skin from his new tattoo, and as I pushed his shirt off his shoulders I looked at it.

“Our little secret, Georgia,” he whispered to me as I kissed him there.  Suddenly, with a growl, he lifts me up, pressing me too the wall, pulling my dress up around my hips as I wrap my legs around him, burying my face in his neck.  “Dammit, I need you.  I need you so fucking bad.”  He said and I, silencing the doubt swirling in my head, relinquished myself to him once again.  

“Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry.”


	8. Chapter 8

I had just finished unpacking my suitcases in my new London “flat” when my phone buzzed.   My heart foolishly leapt at the thought that it might be Harry, even though I wasn’t sure I even wanted to see him.  Harry and I had spent a few clandestine nights at my apartment in New York and though he had tried to extend his trip, I encouraged him to go home.  We both needed a break.  I was struggling with my feelings, and I thought that spending almost a month away from him would help both of us to gain some perspective and to cool off.  Having had a bit of “normal” over the holiday, I began to see how stupid I had been acting, and was hoping I could muster up the strength to hold fast to my decision to leave Harry be.

Now that I was in the same city as him, and would be seeing him any moment, though, I realized just how not-cooled-off I was.  

Still.  I was determined to do the right thing.  Besides, Harry seemed to be doing just fine on his own.  I had been keeping tabs on him—justifying it as part of my job, of course—and had seen the articles and pictures and gossip.  Peter’s article had made the headlines, and while part of Harry’s fan base defended his innocence, the majority didn’t even believe the article had any merit.  Either way, Harry had spent the break making great strides on his “image;”  he had been making the rounds on the London social circuit, linked to various socialites and celebrities.  He never commented, but as far as the public was concerned his cheeky grins and sly winks said it all.    

When I saw that the text was from Magda and not from Harry, I felt an odd mix of relief and regret.  

“I’m sending a car for you, be ready in an hour.”

I hadn’t had a minute to myself since I arrived in London three days ago.  I’d been in meetings non stop; I had been brought up speed on the schedule; I had arranged my studio space; and I had tried to get things settled in the apartment.  The last thing I needed was another event, but Magda’s phrasing didn’t indicate that it was optional.  It was already 9, which meant that I wouldn’t be leaving until 10, which meant it would be another late night followed by an early morning.  I could hardly say I was thrilled about it. It would be a miracle if I could keep this pace up for much longer.  

I took a shower, and no matter how hard I tried to think of other things, my mind kept returning to Harry: where he was, what he was doing, when I would see him.  Would he be wherever Magda was taking me?  Had he moved on from me and would I be glad about it or would it end up breaking my heart?  

Every time my thoughts managed to drift away from Harry, they landed on Tom.  Tom who was heavy on my mind these last few days.  The first time I had been to London I had come with him.  We were so young and so hopeful and so happy; by the time we had left, we were set on a path that would rip us apart.  If I had known, I would never have gotten off that plane but I had been too naive to even guess at what was coming.  I scrubbed my skin raw, concentrating on the sting of the hot water, and pushing my demons back into their closet.  I was determined to stay on the right path—a healthy one, a sane one—and dwelling on the past was not going to help that at all.  

The car arrived just on time, and I was glad that I had chosen jeans and boots.  It was cold and rainy, and even though I had on a sweater and a leather jacket I could not keep from shivering.  We rode through the streets and I searched for things that seemed familiar to me, though I was coming up empty handed.  I smiled to myself, thinking that maybe it was a sign, that this would be a fresh start and that London would be kinder to me than it had before.

It wasn’t long before my hope started to erode.

I walked into the building, which I recognized immediately.  The buildings around it had changed, but it was almost as it was the last time I had been there.  It was an intimate live music venue that I had spent more than a few nights in when Tom’s band was touring. The smell, the lights, the artwork on the wall—not much had changed, and I felt like I was stepping into some alternate universe.  

I was immediately slammed with forgotten memories—those things that float to the back of your mind but that somehow resurface as if no time had passed at all, things that you didn’t even know you’d forgotten.  Mine were mostly drunken, drugged memories, but they weren’t all bad either.

I remembered sitting in front of the stage as Tom sang, the way I felt as the people around me had sung along to his tormented words.  I remembered the way he would look at me and the way he would come off stage, high off his performance (and other things) and he’d fuck me against a wall, not caring who might walk past.  I shivered at the recollection of Tom’s body against mine. We were so stupid.  And so in love.  And so fucking broken.  I wondered if Tom’s grip on me would ever loosen.

I wanted a cigarette—something I hadn’t even thought about for a year, and hadn’t touched for over two—and a bottle of vodka to help me forget again and looked around to see the quickest and easiest way to procure both.  Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I was spotted before I could find either.  

“Georgia!  Over here!” I turned my head to see Magda waving me over.  

“What’s this about?” I asked her as I approached the table.  She indicated a chair and as I sat down, the man sitting with her turned to face me.  “I’m sure you’ve met Colin,” she said with a smile.  

“Um.  Uh, Colin.  Hello,” I stuttered as I stared at Colin’s all too familiar face.  

“Georgia.  Rose.  Welcome back to England, love,” he crooned.  I felt bile rise up in my throat, but forced myself to remain seated.

I kind of hoped I’d throw up in his lap.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.  Magda whipped her head around to look at me.  “I mean, I—just Georgia will do.”

“Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers, love,” he said again just to rub it in, and I wanted to smack him.  I looked at Magda.

“So, to what do I owe this…?”  I couldn’t bring myself to say “pleasure.”  

“Well, Colin is going to be helping us out a bit while we’re here, on a trial basis at least.  The two of you will be working closely together, so I thought we should have a sit down.”

“Working closely together sounds lovely, doesn’t it Georgia?”  

I shot him a dirty look.  My history with Colin was one that was hardly conducive to working closely, but I didn’t want to cause a scene so I just tried to remain civil.  I’d figure out how to actually deal with him later.

“Georgia!”  I heard a chorus of hellos as the five boys approached the table and sat down around me.  

Harry was the last to sit down.  “Hello Georgia.”  The way he said it made my face turn hot, but I was confident the darkness of the club would hide the blush spreading on my cheeks.  

“Hi guys,” I said to no one in particular.  I felt like a caged animal, sitting there between my dreadful past and my hopeful, if misguided, future.  I wanted to get up and run out of the place, but I just took another sip of my drink and tried to quell the anxiety building in my stomach.

“I see you’ve been doing the introductions, Magda,” Harry said, clapping Colin on the back.  “It seems you’ve got a new partner in crime, eh Georgia?”  

“So you know Colin?” I asked.

“We all do, Georgia.”  Niall said.  “I’m not quite sure what he does, but he’s been doing a swell job of it, I’m sure,”  he added.  

I was sure that no one would be able to pinpoint what exactly Colin did—until it was too late.

“Magda, can I speak to you alone for a moment?”  I asked, standing up.  I knew it was abrupt but I didn’t care.

“Right now?” she asked, no doubt confused at my snappy tone.

“Yes.”  I walked away and she followed.

“Do you think Colin Hawthorne is really a wise choice for this enterprise?”  I asked when she had caught up to me.

“No, I’m not, to be honest….”

“Then what the hell is he doing here?”  I didn’t want to make a scene or overstep my bounds, but this was not something I could just let slide without saying something.  “Unless Colin has changed a lot, which I am more than a little inclined to doubt, this is a super bad idea.  I’m pretty sure his influence will not be positive.”

“I think that’s the point, Georgia.  Why are you so upset?  What’s really going on, here?”

“Seriously?  What’s really going on?  Am I supposed to believe that you don’t know why I might be a little touchy about Colin Hawthorne?”

“Oh.  Shit.”  She said, realization dawning on her face, her normally composed face dropping it’s stoic mask.  “Shit Georgia, it didn’t even occur to me until this moment.”  I just looked at her, knowing that she had seen the stories, heard the rumors.  I didn’t really expect her to remember the finer points, but still.  Colin Hawthorne would be nothing but a problem in the end.

“Magda, I—”  She cut me off.

“Georgia, listen.  I’m terribly sorry, I really am.”

“Oh great.  Super-aloof-I’ve-got-a-job-to-do-so-fuck-everything-else Magda is back.”  I was headed toward getting fired, but I didn’t care.

“I’m going to ignore that Georgia, and I’m sorry if this is awkward for you.”

“Awkward is the understatement of the fucking century.”

“I don’t have any choice in the matter.”

“Can’t you just get rid of him?  Not even for my sake, Magda.  I can be a grown up.  But I’m not sure he can be.  And he can be seriously bad news.  This is a dangerous path to take.”

“I’m sorry, Georgia, but there’s nothing to be done.  He is the son of the owner of the management company.  I’m afraid he’s here to stay.”

“What, exactly, is he here for?”

“The boys want to branch out a bit, grow up a little, move away from the boy band persona.”

“And Colin-fucking-Hawthorne is the one to do that?”

“Well, management wants it, too.  Their fans are growing up.  Next year’s twelve-year-olds will have some new obsession to lose their minds—and their parents’ money—over.  This recent campaign with Harry has started to bring in a whole new demographic.  As you surely know, it is hard to transition into a different genre.  Once a boy band always a boy band.  Management wants to try and make the leap.”

“Dolla-Dolla bill, ya’ll,” I said.

“What?”

“You know, Cash Rules Everything Around Me?”  Magda looked at me with a blank face.  “Wu-Tang?”  I burst out laughing at how absurd this whole thing was becoming.  

“Are you okay?”  She asked me.  I definitely wasn’t, but it was obvious she didn’t give much of a shit about anyone’s well being right now.

“Yeah.  I’m great.  So, what you’re telling me, basically, is that Colin is here to turn them into rock stars?”

“I guess that the gist of it, yes.”

“Fucking hell, Magda, this is bad news. I don’t know if I can deal with this.”

“Georgia, please.  We need you.  I can’t get anyone else as good as you right now, I’m sure, and you are so great with the band.  And you’ve been down this road, so maybe you can help.  Besides, Colin has a lot of connections.”  I was well aware of his “connections.”

“This is some shit, Magda.  Some real shit.”  She didn’t even know the half of what Colin had done.  

“Those boys trust you, Georgia.  They need you.  Please stay.  Please, I’m begging you.  I’ll see what I can do about getting rid of Colin, but the chances of that happening are unlikely.  Just, please, come sit down.”

“Do you actually care about those guys in there?  Because I thought you did, but it seems like you’re more interested in the bottom line.”

“Georgia, you’ve insulted me enough tonight, I think.  I love those boys.  But as I’ve said before, this is a job.  It is a machine.  If we aren’t the ones doing it, someone else will.  Maybe, just maybe, we can mitigate some of the disaster.  I don’t want to do this any more than you do.  I don’t blame you for being angry with me.  What I’m asking you is to help me and to help them.  If we can ride this wave and keep an eye on things, then maybe they’ll be okay.  Maybe their stories will turn out differently than yours did.  Do you really want to abandon them now?”  

“No.  I don’t want to abandon them.  But what does it say about me if I keep pushing this shit?  What does it say about me that I keep looking the other way why we rip these boys to pieces?”

“Maybe you can be their saving grace.”

“Wow.  Their saving grace?  You greatly overestimate me, Magda.  I’m barely holding myself up.  What am I supposed to do when I’m put up against Colin?  I’ll never win that battle.  I can’t do it.”

“You can, and you will.  I know you well enough to know that you won’t abandon these boys.”

It was becoming apparently that Magda was a manipulative bitch, but she was right in some way.  If I left, I’d have absolutely no control over what happened.  If I stayed, maybe I could temper Colin’s bad influence in some way—not that I had any idea what that might mean.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing, Magda.”

“I do.”

“I want it on the record that I am not okay with this.”

“Noted.”

“I’m going home.”

“Please don’t.”

“If I am going to have to deal with this shit for the foreseeable future, then I need a night off.”  

“Stay, Georgia.  Harry and Zayn are playing a set tonight.  It would hurt them if you weren’t here to watch.”

“What?”

“We’re trying a few things out.  They’ve written a few songs together and they’re playing tonight.”  I looked around the corner to see Harry sitting on a stool on the stage, guitar in hand, as he smiled at some people sitting in front of him.  My heart swelled a little as I watched, thinking back to a time not so long ago when another man I loved was on that same stage, under those same lights.   _Wait, what?  Another man? As in more than one?_  I shook my head—I really was in some alternate universe.

“If you really insist on leaving, I’ll call you a car.”

“No….  I’ll stay.”  She just smiled as I followed her back to the table where I was glad to find Colin had made his exit.

With Colin gone, I felt a little more relaxed so I sat back down and tried to keep up with the conversation.  I tried to give my attention to Harry and Zayn on stage, but I was struggling to concentrate.  I was so lost in my own thoughts that it took me a moment to realize that Harry had started to play one of Tom’s songs.  He had rearranged it so that it it made sense without a heavy guitar and pounding drums.  Stripped down, the song took on an even more haunting tone as Harry and Zayn sang together over the uncomplicated rhythm of the acoustic guitar.   The words that Tom had written hit me like a ton of bricks, and though the words were coming from Harry’s mouth, all I could hear was Tom’s voice.   _I’ll never let you go, just needed you to know…._  Hot tears stung my eyes as I tried to push the memories from my thoughts.  The song seemed to go on forever and with every heartbreaking word, I felt my chest constrict.  I was sure it would be a miracle if I made it out of there alive.  I could feel Harry looking at me as he finished the song; I knew that he wanted me to look at him, but I could do nothing more than stare at the table, assaulted by images of another lifetime.

“This next one is something I wrote for someone special,” Harry announced, “with a little help from my mate, Zayn here.  It’s called ‘Our Little Secret,’” he said with a smile.  At which point my heart jumped into my throat.  This was too much, and I felt hot and trapped and panicked, searching for a way to get out of this mess.  As I started to stand up, Louis grabbed my arm.  “This one’s really good, love.  You should listen,” he said as he forced me back to my seat.   _Our little secret, moments stolen in the dark.  I knew I loved you then, though you’re stuck in way back when._ This would surely be my undoing.  I was certain I would die on the spot.  As soon as the song was over I stood up hastily, mumbling non-coherent excuses, and ran to the door.  I was willing myself not to cry as the cold air knocked the wind out of me.  

“Georgia!” I heard Harry’s voice behind me.  I froze, wiping my eyes before I turned to face him.  I was aware of a crowd of people around us and was terrified that he might say something he would regret later.

“Harry, darling!” I said cheerily.  He tried to embrace me, but I kissed him casually on the cheek.  “Did you need something before I go?”  I said.  

He looked at me darkly as I cut my eyes to the nosy bystanders, willing him to get the hint.  “Oh, right, yes, well.  I just wanted to talk to you about some, um, options, for, uh,” he was shivering as he stood there in a thin t-shirt.  “Maybe we should go back in,” I said as I pulled him back through the doors and into a darkened alcove.

“What is it, Harry?” I asked urgently.

“I-I thought you would like it….” He said, sounding hurt.  “But you just ran out of here like it was the most awful thing you had ever heard.”

“Oh Harry,” I felt like I was always saying that to him.  “Harry, it was all very beautiful,” his face relaxed as I said it.  He put his hand on my hip and pulled me closer.

“I have just missed you so much,” he said softly, bringing his face to mine.  “I know you wanted a break from everything, and I tried to give you that, but all I can think about is you.”

I jerked back as I heard voices.  His hand dropped to his side, though a smile played on his lips.  I felt the tears pooling in my eyes again, and wiped them away quickly with the back of my hand.  

“Georgia, what’s wrong?”  

“Ugh, Harry, stop being so damn sweet and perfect.  This is too much.  This place, your song, Tom’s music.  Colin fucking Hawthorne.  It is too much,” I stumbled over the words as I tried not to lose it completely.

“But—”

“But, you just don’t understand, Harry.  It is too much right now.  I don’t know what to do with any of it, and I’m stuck here now and there have been too many things tonight, and I’m overwhelmed, and I just can’t sit there and listen to you sing those words and not feel something.  You can’t play games like this Harry.  You are sweet, and young and innocent in so many ways.  You don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“I understand perfectly well,” Harry said.

“You don’t though, Harry. You don’t.  I have been here, I have done this.  I never expected to do this again, yet here I am.  It’s chasing me like some fucking joke.”  
“I’m not a joke,” he said petulantly.  

“I’m not saying you are a joke.  I’m saying my life is a joke.  My life is a big sick twisted fucking joke, and I can’t deal with you singing me love songs right now.”

“I’m sorry, Georgia, I wanted to make you happy.  I wanted to show you how I…how I felt.”  

I put my hand on his face.  I was sorry to take this from him, to disappoint him, but I didn’t know what else to do.

“Harry, I love you for it, I really do.  Please don’t think that I am anything other than completely amazed by you,” I said softly dropping my voice, and my hand as a group of people walked by.  

“But you don’t understand, and I do understand, Harry, and it breaks my stupid fucking heart.”   


	9. Madrid

The specifics of Colin’s job became apparent quite quickly.  He was the bringer of girls and booze.  There was a steady stream of both wherever he was, and he was wherever the guys were, in every dressing room, club, and apartment that the the boys occupied.  Initially, the moments I observed were more awkward than not.  They were not really looking to bang a hot girl before they jumped on stage every night, and they seemed annoyed that they were expected to act like rowdy assholes instead of happy kids.  The video games were replaced with loud music and dancing girls; the soccer balls with bottles of top shelf liquor.  Most days, I felt like I was the only one even remotely in their corner, and I wasn’t even doing a good job of it.

I stayed close but kept to myself, watching what was happening, wondering if maybe against all odds, they would reject these things and it would fade away soon enough.  Every day that it went on I’d contemplate quitting on principle, if not for my own sanity, but mostly I was afraid to abandon them.  I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting somewhere across the world wondering what was really happening and if they were really okay.  

Sometimes, on a good day, I’d chastise myself for being pessimistic and over-dramatic.  No one was forcing them to drink, or to take a girl back to their apartment.  I knew my experiences were clouding my judgement—not every musician ended up on a constant rotations of groupies, drugs and rehab.  

Harry and I were cordial but cool with each other.  I was doing my best to keep my distance though it was harder than I wanted to admit.   Every night it seemed like Harry was taking a different girl home, and each time he did, I felt the distance between us stretch, and I mourned the loss of my easy friendship with him.  I had pushed him away, so I only had myself to blame, but that didn’t make it any easier to let him go.  Mostly, the days were fine, but when my work was done and I was lying in the dark in an apartment that would never feel like home, I missed him.  As much as I tried not to think about who he was with on any given night, I couldn’t help but feel bothered by it.  I wavered between feeling okay with it, and with hating him for it—as much as I knew it was wrong, I wanted to be with him, talk to him, be the object of his admiration.

February rushed in with a flurry of events.  We were getting ready to embark on the European leg of the tour and I was feeling frantic.  I knew that being on tour, and in such tight quarters, Colin would be unavoidable.  At least in London I had my own refuge, but the best I would get on tour might be a hotel room, or some quiet time on my bus.  I had thrown down the gauntlet with Magda and insisted I get a private vehicle for our tour across Europe.  I felt like a spoiled brat in demanding it, but she met my request without hesitation.  We decided that my mother would stay in London with Lily for the majority of the time and I would make short trips back to see her, or they would come visit if we would be staying put for a few days.  I hated to leave her but knew that it was probably the best decision for her.  Looking at the schedule, I was sure of it.  We would be doing 20 shows in almost as many cities over the course of the next two months.

The first stop was Portugal to do a show in Lisbon.  I was glad to finally be in a place that I had never been before, where I didn’t have any history pulling me down.  

I was settled into my bus after the show in Lisbon, when there was a knock on the door.  “Georgia?” I heard Louis call my name.

“Come in,” I said pulling my hair into a ponytail.  “What’s up?”

“Can I ride along with you tonight?”

“Oh, um, sure?  I’d have to say it’s kind of lame in here, though.”

“That’s why I’m here.”  He smiled at me.  Lou was a sweet guy.  He was the oldest of the group, and while he was usually up for a little fun, he seemed to grow weary of fans and girls and parties more quickly than the others.  I also knew that he was crazy about his girlfriend and that there had been some tension lately, what with all of the partying going on in London.  Management didn’t exactly frown on the boys having steady girlfriends, but they didn’t exactly support it, either.  Obviously.  

“Things getting a little crazy over there?” I asked as I handed him a beer. 

“You know.  Colin’s usual contingent boarded the bus.  It’s not too crazy, but I just need a little peace and quiet.  And with El, well, you know.” He trailed off.

“Yes, I know.” I said and flipped on the tv.

“I just am tired of the drinking, and the parties, and the girls.  But really, I’d rather be playing football.”

“You may have signed the wrong contract.” I said with a smile.

“Funny, Georgia.”  I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Louis, it’ll be okay.  You and El will get through this.  You just have to be honest about it, and don’t get dragged into all of the other stuff.  If she loves you, and you love her, and you really mean it, it will all be okay.”

“Will it, though, Georgia?”

_No, it really won’t,_ I thought to myself as I smiled at him.  “Sure, Louis.  Sure it will.”

****

“Leave me alone, Colin,” I shouted over my shoulder as I hurried to my bus.  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”  

Things in Madrid had gone from bad to worse.  We were late arriving on the first night due to some difficult at the border of Spain; the stage wasn’t set up how we were expecting it to be, which threw off the entire show; the reviews in the paper were scathing; and mobs of people hoarded us wherever they even suspected any of the boys were.  

We were only a few shows in and things were already slipping.  The drinking was getting out of control, and there had been more than one rumor of drug fueled drama in the hotel where we were staying.  I couldn’t find out if there was actually any truth to the drugs, because no one was talking about it.  All I knew is that as the days went on, the mood of everyone was changing.  Niall was constantly hungover, Zayn’s eyes often red-rimmed and glassy.  Liam, usually so on point, seemed to have lost interest.  Even Harry was somber and distracted.  The only one who seemed halfway sober most of the time was Louis, and even he was descending into a black mood on a regular basis.  They were tense with each other; they were arguing more and laughing less, and it affected everyone around them.  Even their performances were sloppy and if the girls in the audience didn’t care yet, I knew that it would start to matter eventually.

Everyone on the staff was angry and concentrating on damage control, and I was reaching my breaking point.  To be fair, it didn’t take much to get to that point, but I could see that my choice to stay was not going to make a difference, and all I wanted was to get out of the whole mess.  

At the after party—a new nightly requirement on this leg of the tour— things were spiraling quickly.  The boys were openly fighting with each other, security was lackadaisical at best, and there were definitely drugs.  So much for those drug reports being rumors.  I knew that this was Colin’s influence, and I said as much to Magda.  She waved it off as just part of the fun, but I was insistent that she do something to stop it.  I thought that maybe, if I pushed that it would affect the bottom line, she would think about it, but that had little effect.  All of their shows were sold out anyway, and merchandise was flying off the shelf.  Even if their performances turned into a joke, they money had been made, and people would still pay to see the spectacle unfold.  I left the party in disgust, but not before I saw Harry making out with some stupid model in the middle of the room.  I couldn’t help but watch as he smiled lazily at her and took her hand as he stumbled through a door, shutting it behind him.  It was too much for me, and I stalked out of there, spitting a “Fuck you” at Colin as I passed him.  

Colin was on my tail now, and I really didn’t want to have a confrontation with him—not in an abandoned parking lot where no one was around.  He was not the type you’d want to meet in a dark alley.  

“You stupid bitch, I don’t care what you want!” He screamed at me as he caught up to me at the side of my bus.  There wasn’t anyone else around and I didn’t know if I was thankful that there wouldn’t be any witnesses, or scared.  He grabbed me and shoved me against the bus, my head slamming into the hard metal.  

“Ah, sweet little Georgia Rose, playing the good little girl.  How times have changed.”  I could smell the liquor on his breath and more than a trace of marijuana clinging to his shirt.  

“Get.  Off.  Of.  Me.”  I tried to push him away but I was no match for his strength.

“Trying to get me fired, are you?  Good luck with that,” he said with a sneer.  I stopped struggling against him since I knew it would only infuriate him more.  He trailed a finger down my face, my neck, my collar bone, before wrapping his fingers around my neck.  He held me tight.

“You’re stuck with me, Georgia, unless you intend to quit.  Though it isn’t like you have much of a life, otherwise.”  His grip on me got tighter as I felt his other hand edging under my sweater.  “Why don’t we go inside and have a right good fuck, for old time’s sake, eh?” I reached up and slapped him.

“Fuck you.  Get off of me!” I said loudly, hoping and fearing in the same moment that someone would hear.  “I will never, ever touch you again,” I hissed at him.  As I reached up to slap him again, he caught my wrist and slammed it into the side of the bus and I whimpered in pain.  I looked up and saw him zeroing in on the scar on my wrist that was exposed from the sweater falling down my arm.  He laughed.

“Such a fuck up, eh, Georgia?  When did you do this?  Was it before or after Tom offed himself?  Hmm?”  I felt a lump rise in my chest as I struggled against him.  “So feisty.  I always loved that about you.” He said as he put his lips to my neck.  “I’ll never forget that night… you were so good.”  I heard a crowd of people coming towards us, and Colin let me go abruptly.  He leaned back in and kissed me roughly, his mouth tasting like stale cigarettes.  “If you say another word about me, to anyone, I will fucking ruin you.  You remember that.  I know what you really are.  I know everything: the lies, the secrets, the pills, the other men, the TRUTH.  I will ruin you.”  He said and turned to walk away.  “Oh, by the way, I brought you something.  For old times sake,” and he tossed a bottle of pills at me.  I should have let them fall to the ground, but I caught them instead and shoved them into my pocket.

What seemed like hours later, I hears Louis’ voice as he opened the door to the bus.  ““Knock, knock? Georgia?  Alright if I come in?”  

I didn’t answer him, but I saw him poke his head in.  I just looked at him as I met his stare.  

“Jesus, what the hell happened in here,” he said, more of a statement than a question.  My blurry eyes focused on the mess around me, as I sat huddled in a chair, shaking.  “Georgia, love, are you ok?”

“Yeah.  Sure.” I said unconvincingly as I saw him grab the half empty bottle of vodka as I reached for it.  “Gimme that.”  I slurred.

“I think you’ve had quite enough,” he said as he poured it down the drain.  “What is this about?”  

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, slamming the door.  I looked at myself in the mirror, my face tear-stained and my eyes red and swollen, my make up smeared, my hair wild.  I stared at myself forever, all of those memories rushing back to me: of Tom, and the band, and the parties, and Colin.  Fucking Colin.  All these years later and here he was, threatening to take down the fragile life that I built.  He was no match for me.  I had spent the last hour trying to figure out how to out him, but through the haze of vodka, I came to the conclusion that there was no real way that would work in my favor, so I had decided to just keep drinking instead—whoever (probably Colin’s assistant) had stocked my bus knew what they were doing.  I looked at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman I had become, and as I pulled off my sweater, a  prickle of a thought tickled the at the back my brain.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the bottle of pills.  I didn’t know what they were, and I didn’t care.  It didn’t matter.  I poured several into my hand, and as I did, the door flew open.  I froze as Louis, shocked, stared at me, and then at my hand that had closed around the pills.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis yelled, coming out of his stupor.  

“Leave me alone, Louis.” I said with ice in my voice as I stalked past him, I was fully aware of how ridiculous I looked in my jeans and a bra, hair wild around my face, but I didn’t care.  It didn’t matter.  Skirting around Louis, I grabbed a beer off the counter.  It was warm and stale, but I didn’t care.  It didn’t matter, either.  As I brought the fist full of pills to my mouth, he grabbed my wrist forcefully.  I felt the ache of the bruise left from Colin, which only only fueled my anger.  

“No,” he said.  

“Fuck you,” I replied with venom in my voice.  He looked like I had slapped him, but I didn’t care.  Just another thing that didn’t matter.  I struggled against him but it was no use.  He forced my hand open over the sink and down the pills went with the swirling water.  

I screamed.

I slammed my fists into the counter, the pain barely registering.  “Fuck.  This.  Life,” I yelled.  “Fuck this shit.  Fuck it, fuck it fuck it,” I screamed wildly.  I grabbed the closest bottle and drank, barely choking it down.

“Georgia, please.”

“Please what, Louis?   _God dammit_.  Just _leave_.”  

“What is happening?”

“What is happening, Louis,” I spit, “is that my life is one big fucked up pile of shit.  A HUGE pile of shit and I’m fucking tired of it.”

“It can’t be as bad as all that.”

“You don’t know even the beginning of it.  Not even the tip of the iceberg that is my shit pile of a life.”  He just watched me.  “You can’t even begin to understand this shit.  None of you can.  Not you.  Not Harry.  Not anyone.  I have lived a whole fucking life already and I am so tired of it.”  

“But what, exactly, is happening here?  Right now?  You were fine a few hours ago.”

“You want to know what’s happening here?  I’ll tell you what is happening here.  What happened is Colin fucking Hawthorne, if you are so keen to know.  Colin came after me tonight—he was mad that I was mouthing off about what was going on at the stupid shit party he arranged.  I can’t stand what he is doing to you all.”

“We’ll be fine, I’m sure…” Louis started, but I interrupted him.

“That’s what we all say, Louis.  That’s what we all say.  We’ll be fine.  We’ll be alright.  And then it becomes, one drink won’t hurt.  Two drinks won’t hurt.  A bottle of vodka won’t hurt.  Then it’s here, have some pot, have some pills have some cocaine,” my voice was rising and I felt manic.  I was swirling out of control and Louis looked absolutely horrified.  “And then, dear sweet Louis, some asshole shoots you up with god knows what while you’re already half out of your mind and you let him fuck you while your husband watches!  And that isn’t even the worst of it.  Because then?  Because then you just become a worthless piece of shit.  And spiral out of control and you stop caring about everything, and everyone stops caring about you.  And you get so deep in it that it just seems normal, Louis.  Normal.  And just when you think that maybe things are getting back to normal?  Your husband, who loves you despite all of the fucked up shit you’ve done, and whom you still love despite all the fucked up shit HE has done, wraps himself around a tree in a drug induced rage.”  I screamed at him.  “And then, then?  And then… your fucking life is ruined,” I say softly as I crumple to the floor my body racked with uncontrollable sobs.  

After minutes that seemed like hours, I felt him lifting me and setting me on the bed, then wiping my tear stained face with a wet cloth.  I waited for him to say something but he didn’t.  He pulled of my jeans, wrapped me in a blanket, and lay next to me, wrapping his arms around me as I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up, he was gone.


	10. Ibiza

What happened in Madrid opened up something in me.  Or, more accurately shut it down.  I had lost control, and while I should have felt remorseful, I couldn’t bring myself to care.  Everything around me was spiraling out of control, so why shouldn’t I?  When I had stepped off the bus into the sunshine of Barcelona, I knew that I was supposed to feel some sort of regret, to take the previous night as some sort of warning sign or wake up call, but whatever shred of dignity I had had washed down the drain with those pills.  

The me of a few months ago would have slinked into the dressing room, embarrassed about my outburst, about losing control; but that was the old me, or rather, that was the new me.  The old me—the real old me— was back, and the she didn’t give a shit.  I walked into the room as if I owned the place, and I worked purposefully.  I ignored the arguing, I drank the alcohol, and I casually slipped one of the left over pills into my mouth as if it were tylenol.

“What are you doing?”

“Working,” I told Louis who was eying my glass.

“What was that you just took?”

“What are you?  My mother?”

“After the other night…,” he said, trailing off as I glared at him.

“It was tylenol,” I lied easily.  “Nursing a hangover.”

“A hangover….”

“Yeah.  Is that surprising to you?”

“And are you going to tell me you’re just drinking water?” He asked me, his eyes trained on the tumbler of clear liquid in my hand.  

“No.  It’s vodka.  Want some?”

"No, I don’t."

"Too bad,” I shrugged.  “Your clothes are hanging up, ready to go," I told him.

"Thanks.  Uh.  Should we talk?"

"About what?"

"Are you serious?"

"Look, I know that was rough, but I’m good.  I can take care of myself."

I was sorry that Louis had walked into the mess that was my life the night before, mostly because the last thing I needed was some kid looking over my shoulder every time I made a move.  But I did feel bad that I had unloaded on him.  It was unfair.  And yet, I got some sort of sick satisfaction out of it.  Let him see how bad it could be.  Let him wonder if he would make it back home to his university-student girlfriend, their relationship unscathed.  I was tired of lying, of hoping.  I was no match for what was happening and I obviously didn’t have the strength for it.  Besides, they were adults.  They could play this game if they wanted to.   Maybe some good would come of my absolute undoing.  Maybe if he saw a real world example, he’d at least know what he was headed for.

I had been ok.  Maybe not perfect, maybe not happy and totally put together, but I had been ok.  Because of one encounter with one asshole on one night, I had come apart.  Aside from a few random pangs of shame or sadness, I felt nothing but intense anger.  I didn’t feel ashamed, or sad, or anything else.  Just angry.  I thought about Colin and his threats and his drugs and I felt angry; I thought about Louis and how kind he was to me and I felt angry; I think about how lighthearted and fun things were just a few months ago and I felt angry; I thought about Harry and how we’d barely talked since I had arrived in London and I felt angry. I thought about all the girls he was probably hooking up with and it made me angry.  I thought about how sweet he was and how he wanted to love me and I didn’t let him and I felt angry.   I knew that this was bad, that the anger would lead to something else at some point, something worse, but at least I could work with angry.

“Hi.”

“Your clothes are hanging up, Harry.  On the red hangers,” I said over my shoulder, not even bothering to look at him.

“Thanks.”

I took another sip of the vodka, and pushed up my sleeves before turning around, thinking he had gone.  I jumped when I turned and he was still standing behind me.

“Jesus, Harry.  I thought you had gone.”

“What happened to you?”  

“What?”  I didn’t know what he was talking about until I followed his gaze toward my hand.  He grabbed it before I could shove it behind my back.

“What is this?”

I winced as his thumb passed over my bruised skin.  I yanked my hand away. 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?  It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I don’t get it.  It’s like I’m on tour with my parents all of a sudden.  The stupid door on the stupid bus slammed on my hand last night, ok?”  I hoped that didn’t sound too defensive.   

“Maybe you should ice it?”

“I’ve got some tylenol,” I said, and I fished in my pocket for another white pill.  I threw it in my mouth and swallowed before he had a chance to examine what it really was.  I didn’t know what it was myself, but I knew it wasn’t tylenol.  “Anything else?”

“Are you ok?”

“I told you my hand is fine.  Just a little sore.”

“I’m not talking about your hand.”

“What have you heard?”  Maybe Louis had told him about last night?

“What?  I haven’t heard anything.  You just seem…off.”

“Off?  That’s a pretty astute observation,” I told him sarcastically.  What was I doing?  I felt so disconnected from this conversation, from myself.  

“I looked for you last night,” he told me.  “I wanted to see you.  To talk to you.”

“Really?  Because the last time I saw you last night, you were stumbling out of the party with a half naked girl.”  

He bit his lip, thinking.  I could tell he didn’t know what to say or what to do, and I wished he’d just tell me to fuck off and stop being an asshole or something, but he just looked at me.  

“It wasn’t like that.”

“It never is.”

“Colin said—”

“I don’t give a fuck what Colin said or says, or will say.”  That came out with even more hatred than I intended.

“Ok.  Fine.  But I didn’t do anything with that girl.  I took her back to her room and left her there with a glass of water and her sister.  And then I went to look for you, but you disappeared.”

“You must not have looked too hard.”  I wondered when he came looking for me and I wondered if maybe he would have found me before it was too late.

“I checked the party.  The hotel.  No one had seen you.”

“Plenty of people saw me.”

“I was on my way to your bus, but Colin said you weren’t there.”

“Of course he did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was on my bus all night, Harry.”

“So Colin was lying?”

“I’m going to give you a little bit of advice.  Don’t believe a thing that comes out of Colin’s mouth.  I’ll probably get fired for saying it, but he’s a liar.  You can’t trust him.  I know all of these people around you keep acting like you can, but you can’t.  Colin knew damn well I was on that bus.”

“And Colin knew you were on the bus because…?”

I didn’t like the suspicious look on Harry’s face.  

“If you are accusing me of something, think again, Harry.  If I wanted to fuck someone, it sure as shit wouldn’t be him.”

Harry flinched.  “Christ.  What is wrong with you?”  He ran his hands through his hair and looked at me.  

I wanted to…I didn’t know what I wanted to do.  

“Hello, lads.  Have a good time last night?”  I turned to the sound of Colin’s voice across the room.  

“Shit.” I said under my breath, and started walking away.  Harry reached for me and I flinched as he barely made contact.  “Don’t touch me,” I said through my teeth.  Harry was taken aback by my reaction to his touch; Colin’s presence in the room was making me panic.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Too bad,” I said, and walked away.

****

Three days later, my phone rang.  I opened my eyes, disoriented, not sure where I was.  Bus.  I was on the bus.  Headed to god knows where.  

“Hello?” I mumbled into the phone.  

“Georgia?”

“Oh, mom.  Uh.  Hi,” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible.  Not drunk.  Not high.  

“I was calling to see when I should expect you tomorrow.”

Shit.  I knew I had forgotten something.  “About that.  I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

“Is everything ok?”

Fuck no, it’s not ok.  “Uh, yeah.  Sorry.  I am just a little groggy.  I was asleep.”

“You sound…off,” she said, hesitation in her voice.

“I’m fine.  We’ve just been working hard.  Listen.  Speaking of working hard, I’m not going to be able to come back to London tomorrow.  Some things have come up.”

“That’s too bad,” she said.  “We were looking forward to seeing you.”

“I know mom.  I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it.  I hope Lily won’t be too disappointed.”  

“No, I’m not surprised.  I hadn’t even mentioned you’d be back, on the off chance that things didn’t work out.”

“It’s just that, it’s only two days, and by the time I deal with the flights and the airports and everything else, it won’t even be worth it.”

“I understand.  Maybe it would be good for you to have a couple of days off to just relax.”

“Maybe.”  The guilt I felt was suddenly all consuming.  

“Are you crying?”

“No,” I sniffed.  

“Listen darling.  Everything is fine here.  I know you miss Lily.  We’ll call tomorrow when she’s awake, and you can talk to her.  You’ll be back in a few weeks.  No sense in wasting so much time traveling just to travel some more.  Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

My mother was more forgiving than she should be.  

I swallowed another pill with a gulp of tequila and shut my eyes.

****

Boarding the small plane that would take us to Ibiza, I felt another stab of guilt at taking this vacation instead of going back to London to see my daughter.  But I just couldn’t do it.  I could not let my mother see me like this, and I could not let Lily see me like this either.  All I needed was a few days off, a little time to regroup, and things would be better.   

If I thought I would be spending my days on the beach, though, I was wrong.  It was too cold to sit in the sand without a sweater on.  I knew nothing about Ibiza, but it quickly became apparent that this was a party destination, plain and simple.  Though it was off season, the clubs were still pumping out their music and the streets were filled with people.  We we hardly off the plane before everyone was deciding where to go first, and what they were going to wear.  

I was still holding out hope for a relaxing vacation.  I needed to recuperate, to recover, not to spend all day sleeping and all night drinking and dancing.  I tried to protest, but pressure from my co-workers won out in the end.  Not that I put up that much of a fight.  

As I walked into the club, the house music pounding in my ears, my main goal was to forget.  I wanted to forget about my mother and Lily back in London.  I wanted to forget about Colin and Louis, and Harry.  I wanted to forget Tom and our life and all of the other things that were holding me prisoner.  I wanted to find someone to take back to my room, someone who didn’t care who I was, someone who didn’t want to talk to me or know what I was thinking.  Someone who didn’t want to feel anything other than the warm wet heat of our bodies against each other; someone who would be gone before morning.  

I ordered a drink and made my way to the dance floor alone, swaying with the crowd.  I had purposely separated myself from the group. I couldn’t see anyone that I recognized, and I was glad for that.  

As I lost myself in the music and my drink, I felt an arm wrap around my waist, and I immediately recognized it as Harry’s.  He stood behind me, our bodies not quite touching, his arm holding me in place.  I knew I should have stepped away but the press of bodies surrounding us in the dark provided cover, anonymity, invisibility.  He bent his head to my ear, pulling my hair back and I shivered as his fingers grazed my neck.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“Go away, Harry,” I said to him.  “I wasn’t looking for you.”

“Who were you looking for?”

“Someone else.”

“Who?” He asked against my ear.

“Someone to fuck,” I told him, expecting his body to stiffen, his hand to drop, for him to get angry, to walk away.  But he didn’t.  

“Fuck me,” he offered, and pressed himself against me.  There was no space between us now..

“No.”

“Georgia, love, I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his large palm flat against the bare skin of my stomach.  I could feel my resolve dwindling, the pressure of his body against mine leaving little to the imagination, making his intentions clear.

“Don’t, Harry.”

“Why not?”

“I told you.”

“Let it be me.”

Maybe I would let it be him.  What did I care?  My recklessness and the mood of this place was a toxic combination and I knew it, but it didn’t matter, did it?  We danced there for what seemed like hours, while I considered my options, my pulse racing as Harry’s fingers slipped against my skin, the length of his body behind me fitting perfectly.  I felt his lips on the back of my bare neck and I didn’t want to turn him down.  I turned to face him, my arms around his waist, hand sliding inside his shirt, feeling the heat of his bare skin pulled taut over his back.  I looked at him, and….  

“I can’t.”

“Georgia.”

“I can’t.”

I left him standing there, and I went back to the hotel alone.

Going back to the hotel alone was the right thing.  I didn’t need another reason to hate myself in the morning.  I had enough of those.  It had been so tempting, the thought of Harry, but I just couldn’t do that to him, even in my current frame of mind.  Whether I liked it or not, whether I wanted to admit it or not, where I was concerned, Harry was not just some guy to screw in a drunken stupor.

If I had used him that way, I would never be able forgive myself.  I was already having a hard enough time forgiving myself as it was. 

_“You ok?”_

My phone lit up the dark hotel room.I looked at, and then dismissed, Harry’s message.  I tossed the phone back on the bed with a sigh, determined to ignore him.

_“Answer me.”_

…no.

_“Please.”_

…no.

_“I’m worried.”_

…who cares?

_“Text me or I’m coming to find you.”_

…I cared.  Shit.  Why couldn’t I stop fucking caring about him.

_“Leave me alone.”_ I wrote back.

…at least he’d know I was still alive.

_“Are you ok?  Where are you?”_

…no I’m not fucking ok.   

_“I don’t know.  I’m lost.”_

I typed out the words and pressed send.  Within minutes, my phone was vibrating, and a picture of Harry’s face showed up on the screen—one that I had taken one of the first weeks of the tour, before all this shit had started piling up.  I let the phone ring.  He called again and I stared at the picture again, a wide smile on his face, his eyes lit up.  Hopeful.  Happy.  But I didn’t answer.

_“Goddammit answer your phone.  You’re scaring me.”_

…I’m scaring myself.

_“Don’t worry.  I’m fine.”_

…I wasn’t fine.

_“You don’t sound fine.  Where are you?  Please tell me you’re safe.”_

Safe.  What was safe to me anymore?  I would probably be safer in a dark alley than I was in a dark hotel room by myself.  I ignored Harry’s last message and stripped off my clothes.  I felt itchy and agitated.  I searched through my bag and pulled out a t-shirt.  A small plastic bag fell to the floor.  There were several pills in it, different shapes, sizes, colors.  God knows what they were.  

I had been relieved to learn that Colin wouldn’t be on this mini-vacation, but he had still found a way to make his presence known.  This wasn’t the first stash of pills that I had found in my things.  Every day for the last week I had found some sort of “gift” from him.  Mostly in pill form.  I don’t know what he thought he was doing.  Trying to kill me?  Drive me crazy?  I did flush most of them but I always kept a few, some of the more innocuous looking ones.  Not that any of them were harmless, judging by the effects they had on me.  I never knew if I was going to sleep for hours or stay up all night, but no one seemed to notice and I didn’t care. 

I pulled the shirt over my head and filled up a glass of water.  

I sat cross legged on the bed in the dark and set the pills and the phone next to each other in front of me.  I poured the pills out and sorted them into small piles, trying to decipher what they were, not that it mattered much to me.  

I had a decision to make.  

I told myself that I would give it five more minutes.  I had five minutes to decide.  The pills or Harry.  Harry or pills.  

A chance at happiness, or the comfort of a numb oblivion.  

If he called me again within those five minutes I would choose him.  If he didn’t, well….

I stared at the clock on the nightstand, and took a sip of water.  My throat was dry and my heart was pounding.  I looked at the clock.  3 more minutes.  

I had a decision to make.  

Three square yellow, or two round pink.

_Harry._

2 minutes.  A sip of water.  Maybe the blue ones.  

_Please, Harry._

1 minute.  Definitely the pink ones.

My phone rang.  Harry.  Thank god.

“Hello?”

“Thank god you finally answered.  Where are you?”

“My room.”

“Are you ok?”

“No.”

“Georgia?”

“I need you.  

“What room are you in?”

“305.  No.  325.  Fuck.  I don’t remember.”

“I’ll find you.”

“Hurry.”

I left the pills in their piles on the bed and walked to the door.  I stood there, waiting.  

_Hurry._  

“Hurry!” I whispered into the dark.  

I was not ok.  I felt the pull of the pills still laying on the bed and I took a step backward.  

A knock.  Harry.  I stepped forward again and opened the door, the light from the hallway filtered into the dark room.  

“Georgia,” he said and he stepped into the room, the door closing behind him.  I was shaking.  With relief, maybe, or fear.  I didn’t know.  I just stared at him, my hands hanging limply at my sides.  I couldn’t move.  I didn’t need to.  Harry took one long stride toward me, and then I was in his arms.

I finally felt like I could breathe, as if I had been holding my breath for the last five minutes.  I felt tears running down my face as Harry held me tightly.  Safe.  

“It’s ok, love.  I’m here.  Shhh,” he soothed me, stroking my hair.  

I collapsed against him, my legs giving up.  I couldn’t stop shaking.  

“What’s got you so upset?”

“Nothing,” I said weakly into his chest.  “Everything.”

He pulled away from me and brushed the hair out of my face.  “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Are you…did something happen?” He asked.

I knew he was remembering what I had said earlier at the club.

“No.  Nothing happened.  I just….” I couldn’t continue, and he didn’t press me, just wrapped his arms around me again.  

Safe.  

Then his body tensed.  “What’s that?” he asked, and I knew what he had seen.  He let me go and walked toward the bed.

I turned and watched him.

“What are these?” He asked me, gathering the rainbow of pills in his hand.  

“Option two.”

“What was option one?”

“You.”

“Me.  And if I hadn’t called?”

I shrugged.  He was tense.  I was afraid he was angry.  I felt a ripple of panic go through me.  I thought I might collapse on the floor.

“What are these?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you were going to take them anyway?”

“Some of them.”

“Jesus.”

“Don’t be mad,” I told him weakly.  I couldn’t handle him being mad.

“I’m not mad.  I’m…,” he ran his empty hand through his hair.  “I’m scared.  I mean, I’m standing here, looking at you shaking, and you tell me that you were about to swallow a handful of random pills.  Why?”

I shrugged again.  “It’s complicated.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed.  I could feel his eyes on me but I stared at the floor and wondered if I had made the wrong choice.  I watched his feet go past and into the bathroom where I heard the toilet flush.  When I looked up, he was leaning against the door frame, the light from the bathroom a halo around him.  

“They’re gone,” he told me, breaking the silence.

“Good.” I whispered.  I wondered if I would feel differently in a few minutes, a few hours, a few days.  But there would always be more pills for me as long as Colin was around.  

He flipped off the light and walked back toward me, crouching down in front of me.

“Georgia?  Look at me,” he said gently.  

I did.

“I’m sorry,” I told him.

“For what?”

“For asking you to come here?”  I didn’t know what I was sorry for, really.  Too many things to count.

“Don’t apologize for that.  This is where I wanted to be all along.  I’m just glad I came in time.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” I added.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that again,” he said, chuckling quietly.  

I put my hand on his face.  “How are you so perfect?”  

“I’m not.”

I wrapped my hand around his neck and tangled my fingers in his hair.

I kissed him.  

He leaned forward and kissed me back, still crouched in front of me, until I tugged on his shoulders and he pressed me back onto the bed.

He stopped kissing me, raised up on his elbows above me, smoothing the hair from my face.  “I didn’t come here to take advantage of you, Georgia.”  He smiled, but I knew he was serious.

“I didn’t ask you here to take advantage of you, either,” I told him.  

I was sure he was telling the truth.  I hoped he believed me, too, even if I didn’t believe myself.  


	11. On the Road

“Are you okay?”

I looked over at Harry and smiled.  “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Tired.  But okay.”  Okay was a relative term and so I didn’t feel like a liar saying it.  Because compared to how I could have been, I was okay.  

“You really scared me last night,” he said as his fingers ran along my bare arm.  

“I know.  I’m sorry.  Thank you for coming.”

“I just don’t understand.”

“There’s nothing to understand.  I was having a bad week.  I was just sad, and lonely, and stupid.”

“Things have just seemed so weird for the last week or two.”

“I’ve just had a hard time adjusting to this tour.”

“As long as that is all it is?”

“I’m fine, Harry,” I told him as I climbed over him.  He squirmed as my hair tickled his bare chest.  “What are your plans for the day?” I asked him.  

“This,” he said, pulling his face to mine and kissing me.  “And this,” he said as his hand swept down my spine.  “And this,” he said as he, well, I’ll just keep that one to myself.  

 ****

"Do you regret this?" I tapped my fingers lightly over the words on his collarbone.  

He grabbed my hand and flattened it against his skin.  “No.”

“We have to leave today.”

“I know.”

“What are we going to do?” I asked him.

“What do you want to do?”

“Disappear.”

“I wish.”

“But really.  What are we going to do?”

“Stop thinking,” he said as he flipped me over and slid between my legs.

“Harry.”

“Shh.”

****

“You have to go,” I told him.  Our plane was leaving in an hour.

“I know.”

“We need to talk about this.”  I needed to know, before I left that hotel room, what was going to happen next.  I needed to know if we were going to pretend this never happened.  I needed to prepare myself.  I needed to know what I was up against.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he smiled.  “I’ll see you tonight.”

****

I sat anxiously on my bus, waiting.  

For what, I wasn’t exactly sure.

To feel the bus rumble to life, for it to start moving, propelling me to the next destination.

For someone to knock on my door and put something in my hand that would make this horrible feeling go away?

For the bus to burst into flames that swallow me up?

For Harry?

For what?

I felt the bus shift slightly as someone stepped onto it, felt the familiar hum of the engine warming up.  

“All set, Georgia?  We’ll be off in a bit,” Jeffery said to me.  “Just gotta do a quick check.”

“Ok.”

No Harry, then.

Maybe we’d blow a tire and the bus would go careening into a ditch.  

I’m wasn’t okay.   _Goddammit._

“Hey.”

Harry.  He poked his head in the door.

“I thought….”

“That I wasn’t coming?  Have a little faith.”  His smile.  His smile would be the death of me, if a fiery bus crash wasn’t in my cards.

“Hey mate, riding with us tonight?” Jeffrey said to Harry as he came around the side of the bus.  

“Right.”  

I looked at Harry.  

“Looking for a little peace and quiet,”  Jeffrey assumed.

“Exactly.”

“Well, get in there, then.  We’re hitting the road.”  He climbed on after Harry and made his way to the drivers seat.  Behind Jeffrey’s back, Harry smiled at me widely.

****

“Back again, Harry?”  Jeffrey asked.

It was the third night in a row that Harry had stayed on my bus.

“It’s just so much more relaxing here,” Harry said to him.  

“I’m beginning to wonder what I’m missing.”

“You should check it out sometime,” Harry bantered with him.

“Go on then, we’ve got a long drive.”

“We’ve gotta take a break,” I said to Harry when Jeffrey was out of earshot.  He frequently wore headphones while he drove, and while I wasn’t quite sure that was safe, I was glad for the privacy it afforded.  

“A break?  No way.”

“Not like, a ‘break’ but maybe you need to spend a few nights not here.  Before it starts looking suspicious.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You know it isn’t.”

“Then forget it.”

“No.”

“Who cares?”

“Me.  You should, too.”

“I don’t.”

“For me, then.  Do it for me.”

“Fine.  I’ll do anything for you.”

****

I was thankful for these longs drives with Harry, because without them, I’d be lost.  It was the only thing getting me through the days, the only thing that made me throw out the pills that Colin kept planting for me.  I could feel Colin’s eyes on me, in the dressing rooms, backstage, in the cafeteria.  I knew he was wondering why his plan wasn’t working.  It was the only thing to account for the way there were fresh bottles of vodka, tequila, whiskey, on my bus every night, even if I hadn’t touched the old ones; and a new selection of pills in my bag every day.  

Maybe I should have said something to Magda, but I didn’t.  

Maybe I should have told Harry, but I didn’t do that either.

If I could just bide my time….

****

“Stay on your own bus, tonight,” I told Harry in the dressing room of whatever city it was we were supposed to be.  I could hardly keep track, and it didn’t matter.  We were so busy and the band so mobbed that the only thing we managed to see was the bus, a few different parking lots, and the inside of the arenas.  

“I have an idea,” he said to me as he pulled his shirt over his head.

“No ideas,” I told him.  

“It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”

“Don’t.  It’s just one night.”

“Fine. Hey Lou,” he said as Louis walked up to us and Harry sauntered off.  “See you later, Georgia.”

“Hi, Louis.”  

“Georgia, I think we need to have a proper chat.”  

He was probably right.  We hadn’t talked about what happened in Madrid.  We had hardly talked at all.

“Tonight?  You can ride with me.”

I didn’t particularly want to have a talk with him, but at least I wouldn’t be alone.

****

“Harry’s been spending a lot of time on this bus,” Louis said.  

“Yes.”  What was the point in lying?

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“No.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure.”

“…no.”

“That stuff you said, in Madrid, was it true?”

“The details are kind of fuzzy, but yes.”  It was all true, and it was worse than that, too.

“You almost swallowed a bottle of pills,” he said.  His face looked pained.

“Is this an intervention?  I think those are supposed to have more people.”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Does Harry know?”

“About what?”

“What things were really like with you and Tom?”

“No.  He thinks we were perfectly perfect.”

“And does he know about the pills?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“The first night in Ibiza….  But he thinks it was a one time thing.”

“Do you really think he’s that naive?”

“Don’t you?”

“Georgia, do I need to be worried?  Because I’ve been worried.”

“Are you worried about me, or are you worried about Harry?”

“Both.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“And Harry?  Do I need to worry about him?”

“Probably.”

****

“I missed you last night,” Harry said as he buried his face in my neck.

We finally had a night in a hotel.  

“It’s nice to be in a real bed for a change,” he said as he slid his hand up my shirt.  

Someone knocked on the door.

“Don’t answer that,” Harry said.

More banging.  “Open up!”  Niall shouted.  “I know you’re in there.”

“Dammit.”

More banging.

“You know he’s not going to give up, Harry.”

Harry groaned.  “I know.”

By the time I had let them in, Harry was sitting on the sofa flipping through a magazine.  

“Oh, great,” Niall said when he saw Harry.  “We were looking for you.”

“Looks like you’ve found me.”

I stood behind a small entourage of people that Niall had brought along, and made a face at Harry.  I was still holding the door open when Louis sauntered in. “What’s all this?”  he asked, and sat down next to Harry.

“This is a party!”  Niall said, and started to pour drinks.

I sat down in the open space between Louis and Harry.  Harry grumbled about being alone in my ear, but I just inched away from him and smiled.  

****

“Never have I ever gotten drunk.”

“That’s a stupid one, Niall.”

Everyone drank.

“Never have I ever…kissed a member of the same sex.”

Most of the girls drank, including me.  None of the boys.

“Hey, I think you two forgot to drink,” Alex said as he raised his glass to Harry and Louis.

“Good one, mate,” Louis said with an eye roll.  Harry laughed.  Niall really laughed.

“Never have I ever had sex.”

Everyone drinks.

“Never have I ever had sex with someone of the same sex.”

“Didn’t we already do that one?”

“No, that was kissing.”

“What about you and Harry, Lou?”

Harry laughed.  Lou didn’t.

“Fuck you,” he said. Louis obviously didn’t find it funny.  Harry obviously did.  But Harry stopped laughing when Louis leaned forward and glared at him.  “Moving on.”  

I could feel the vibration of Harry next to me while he tried to stifle his giggling.

“Never have I ever sent or received a sext message.”

“What the fuck?  A sext message?”

“You know, like phone sex, but with text messages?  Isn’t that what it’s called?”

“Dude.”

“You know what I mean.  Just drink.”

Everyone drank except me.  I felt my cheeks color slightly.  Of all the things to be embarrassed about.

“You’ve seriously never sent a text like that?  Or even gotten one?”

“Um, no?  It wasn’t really a thing when I was younger, I guess?”  They laughed.  My phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Who’s next?”

I looked at my phone.  Harry’s name was on the screen with a message below.   _“When I think about you I touch myself.”_  I couldn’t help but look up at him.  The look on his face told me that he thought he was the cleverest little shit to have ever walked the planet at that moment.  Another buzz.   _“Next time, you can drink ;)”_

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on, Georgia, you’ve never gotten a sext—”

“Stop calling it that, man!”

“Whatever. AND you’ve never sent someone a naked picture?”

“What’s the difference?”  Someone else asked.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.  What was the question?”

“Never have I ever texted someone a naked picture.”

“Oh,” I said.  I didn’t drink.

“Oh come on, Georgia.  You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” I defended myself with a laugh.  “I’ve never texted someone a naked picture.”

“Fine, what if I revise it for the over 25 crowd: I’ve never given someone a naked picture of myself.”

“In that case…” I said, and took a sip.  It was met with some laughter, but when I looked up Harry was looking at the floor.  Right.  Maybe that was awkward.  “Anyway.”

“Never have I ever pet a dog.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“What the fuck is a euphemism?”

“Like, does it mean something different, or do you literally mean petting a dog.”

“I meant literally pet a dog.”

“You’re an idiot, and you’re about to get kicked out of this game.”

Everyone laughed, and everyone drank.

It was my turn.  I always hated this.  I never had a good one.  

“Never have I ever…gotten high?”

“That’s a dumb one, Georgia.”

“Oh, like the petting the dog one wasn’t?”

“Just drink.”

Everyone drank except Louis.

“So you’ve finally taken the plunge then, Haz?” Someone asked.

Harry shrugged.  Louis leaned across me and looked at Harry.

“Interesting,” Louis said.  “Your turn, Harold.  Hopefully you aren’t too high to think of something.”

“Shut it, Lou.  Never have I ever had a threesome.”

A few people drank.  Harry included.  I was a little surprised, but I picked up my drink and took a sip.  

“Seriously, Harry?  How have I not heard about that?”  Niall asked.

“I was just joking,” he sputtered.  I didn’t know if he saw me drink or not.

“Care to share your story, Georgia?” someone asked me.  

My face colored.  I felt Harry’s eyes on me. _Great._

“No.”  I should have just skipped that one.  Why was I even playing this game?

“You’re amongst friends.”  

“Yeah, Georgia,” Harry agreed.  He couldn’t honestly want to hear the details.

_Fuckshitdamnfuckhell_.  

I drained my cup.

“Whoa, Georgia,” someone else said.  “Must’ve been one heck of a three-some.”

Three-some, four-some, to-many-to-count-some.

“I need a refill,” I answered, slamming my cup down on the table.  I didn’t look at Harry.  I heard him clear his throat.

“Who’s next?”

“Never have I ever cheated on my partner.”

“Like, current partner, or any partner ever.”

“Um, we’ll go with any partner, ever.”

About half of them drank.  I started to reach for my cup.  

Harry was quiet, but he didn’t take a drink.  He smiled at me, stretched his leg just enough that our knees touched.  Shit.  I sat on my hand to keep from drinking.  Louis was watching.  Fuck.  

“Never have I ever taken prescription drugs.”

Everyone drank.

“That was too general.  Who hasn’t had a prescription at some point?”

How long can this game go on?

“Never have I ever done IV drugs.”

“What?”

“You know, like, shooting up?  Heroin or something?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t ask questions if you don’t even know what you’re asking!”

Everyone laughs.

My hand was on my cup again, but no one else was drinking, I let go of it.  I tucked my hair behind my ear nervously.  I looked at Harry, who was, of course, smiling.  I looked at Louis who was not.

A few more innocuous questions came.  Thank god everyone else drank.  

“Never have I ever had sex while someone watched.”

I reached for my cup, again.  No one drank, again.  Seriously?  These people were too young or something.  My hand dropped to my lap.

“You seem to be reaching for that cup a lot and then changing your mind, Georgia.  I feel like maybe you aren’t playing by the rules,” one of the girls teased.  I felt hot.

“I’m—I just keep forgetting that I’m supposed to not drink.”

“That’s what they all say,” she countered.  

“I mean, I’ve got a perfectly good drink sitting in front of me, but I’m not even allowed to touch it unless I’ve done these ridiculous things!”  I was trying to cover for myself, but I sounded defensive.  This game was stressing me out.

“Riiiight.”  

Everyone laughed.  Almost everyone.  Harry’s leg had started bouncing nervously.  

“Lay off it, Valerie,” Louis said.

“God, I’m just joking.  You know I was just joking, right, Georgia?”

“Of course!  I know you’re teasing.  It ain’t no thang but a chicken wang.”

“What?”

“Outkast?”  Everyone looked at me blankly.  “Come on, no one?  Ugh.  I think I’m drunk.”  I fake giggled.  “Who’s next?”

“Never have I ever….”

_Drink._

“Never have I ever….”

_Drank._

“Never have I ever….”

_Drunk._

Everyone was staring at me.  “What?”

“She just forgot the rules again,” Harry suggested.  

“I didn’t….”

Shit.  What did I just admit to?

“You’ve overdosed?  On what?”  Matt was a nosy motherfucker.  My head was suddenly pounding.  

“Whelp,” Louis said, draining his cup and standing.  “I think that’s enough of that.  Everyone out.  I think we all need to go to bed.”

Harry was quiet beside me while everyone else said goodbye and filed out of the door amid vague protests.  

“That was a mistake, right?” He said quietly.

“You, too, Harry.  Out,” Louis said from across the room.

“Georgia?”  Harry’s hand was on top of mine, where it sat between us.  

“I wasn’t even listening.  It was moving too fast,” I told him.  “I forgot…,” I lie-not-lied to him.  He seemed satisfied.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, his smile back.  

“Out, Harold,” Louis said again.

“I can’t believe you’re letting him kick me out,” Harry whispered against my neck.  

“Yeah, neither can I.”

“I’ll come back later.” Harry jogged out of the room.  

I walked to the door where Louis was leaving, but he watched Harry go down the hall then stepped back into the room.

“What?” I asked him.

“That was really….”

“Can you just leave so I can go to bed?”

“Good night, then.”

“Thank you.”

Those questions were planted.  It was like someone was reading a script of my life.

****

“Where are we headed again?”  I could not keep track of these damn cities to save my life.

“Berlin.  We should be there in a few hours.”

“Hey, the other night, in the hotel.  Who were all those people?”

“Niall, Louis…,”

I slapped him playfully.  “I mean those other people.  Matt and Valerie?  Are they friends of Niall’s or something?”  I had seen them around, but I hadn’t managed to figure out what they were actually around for.

“They aren’t really Niall’s friends.”

“Oh.  They aren’t?”

“I mean, he’s friendly with them.”

“He’s friendly with everyone.”

“They’re part of Colin’s entourage.”

“Oh.”  That explained it.

“Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Have you really had a three-some?”

“Have you?”

“No.”

“Good.  Take off your pants.”

****

“Georgia.”

“What do you want?”

“Seems that everyone else gets a turn on your bus.  Thought I’d take a ride, myself.”

“Go away.”

“What if I don’t.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why not?”  

“Everything ok?” Jeffrey said as he rounded the corner.

“No,” I said.

“Careful, there, love,” Colin said.

Jeffrey looked from my face to Colin’s and then back again.

Please god, I could not be alone for 6 hours with Colin.  

Jeffrey just stood there.  Whether he caught on that I didn’t want to be alone with Colin, I didn’t know, but eventually Colin gave up.

“I’ll see you soon, _Mrs. Rose_.”

I didn’t turn Harry away again after that.

****

“Touch me, Harry.”

He did.  

“I cannot get enough of you Georgia.”

“I know,” I whispered into his hair.

****

“Only two more nights until we’re back in London.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“We should talk about it, Harry.”

“No.”

****

“I’m not spending the night without you.”

“Okay.”

“You aren’t going to fight me on this?”

“No.”

Harry and I were ensconced in a hotel in Oslo.  We’d be flying home the next day.  I didn’t know what that might mean for us, but I wasn’t looking forward to it.  We had gotten bold on this tour.  It wasn’t like real life and it protected us and insulated us and made us think that maybe we could do whatever we liked and I let it happen.  We weren’t careful, hardly discreet.  After Colin had showed up at my bus, I made sure never to be alone.  The easiest way to do that was to be with Harry.  Harry was sweet to me and I was vulnerable, and I had let myself believe in some happiness for a while, trying to push away the nagging fear that this thing we were putting in motion would leave me an a crumbling mess of destruction.  The happiness was getting harder and harder for me to hold on to.

“What are you thinking about?”  Harry asked me.

“Nothing.  What are you thinking about?”

“Getting you naked.”

He grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head.

He pressed me into the bed, our naked bodies touching from shoulder to toe.

He held my hands above my head.

He stared into my eyes.

He kissed me.

His hair smelled like coconuts.

The wet heat of his mouth slipped from my mouth to my neck to my shoulder to my breast, to my stomach, to my….

“Harry.”

My hands were in his hair.  

“Harry.”

He looked up at me and smiled.  

He kissed my hip.

He kissed my rib cage.

He kissed my chin.  

He looked me in the eye.  His expression was serious.

“If we could only—”

“Don’t say it,” I said to him.

“Ok,” he said in a whisper.  “I won’t.”

He buried his face in my neck.

I arched into him.  

He pressed his hips to mine.

I sighed as he shifted against me.

I whimpered as he pushed himself inside me.

I moaned as he rocked his hips into me.

I cried when he told me he loved me.


	12. London

Back in London, everyone was high off the success of the European tour; I was high off of Harry.  Unfortunately, though, being in London meant more public obligations, more appearances, more work.  Even though I had my mother and Lily with me, I could feel a sort of despair creeping in.  I was working hard; Harry was constantly busy.  I hadn’t been able to see him alone since we got back to London, beside a few stolen moments here and there.  With every new picture of the new girl he was linked with, the anger in me grew.  I knew I was being ridiculous, but I felt it pulling me down anyway.  I ached for moments alone with him, feeling the warmth of his smile on my face, his warm body pressed against mine.  He, of course, was under the watchful eye of the paparazzi and of the dreadful Colin.  I could only take solace in those looks from across the room that let me know I was on his mind.  The space between us was growing again and I couldn't help but worry that I was to blame.  

It was all because of those few words he had whispered in that hotel room in Oslo.  “Georgia," he had whispered.  "Georgia, I love you.”

I hadn’t said it back.

He hadn’t said it again.

I pretended it didn’t happen.

I was sure he didn’t mean it.

“Mom, you’re sure you’re okay with watching Lily tonight?  They are keeping the location hush hush so even I don’t know where we’re going, but I’ll have my cell, and you can always reach Magda or one of the others if you need us.” I said as I kissed Lily goodnight.  

“I’m sure we’ll be just fine, Georgia.  Go out and enjoy yourself, you’ve earned it.”  

“Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow to get her,” I said.

As I climbed into the waiting car, I checked my phone to find a text from Harry.   _“See you tonight, love,”_ it said, and my heart leapt.  

I hadn’t been at the party for a five minutes before Harry grabbed my hand and pulled me into a dark corner, his hands grabbing my face as he bent to kiss me roughly.  “Harry, stop,” I cautioned.  He had been drinking, which annoyed me, but I was no more sober than he was.  I felt feverish with needing him, but I didn’t want anyone to see us.   

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, tugging on my hand as he started toward the door.  

“It is really a good idea?” I asked, thinking that if anyone saw us it could be catastrophic.  

“Come on, Georgia, lighten up.  They know we’re friends.  Let’s just leave together.  No one will suspect the things I plan on doing to you later,” he added with a smile in his eyes.  I let him lead me outside and into the waiting car.  “See?  That wasn’t so bad, now, was it,” he said as he put his hand on my neck and kissed me, pulling me onto his lap.  I let him kiss me lazily, as his fingers brushed against my back sending a tingle down my spine.  

“Where are we going,” I asked.

“Well, I thought to your place, since it is probably not as likely to be watched?” He said this hesitantly.  I just nodded.  

The ease with which we managed to leave that party and go home to my dark apartment was the only encouragement we needed.  

We grew bolder each time we left a party or a photo shoot or wherever else we were and no one seemed to notice or care.  We managed to slide under the radar, probably because I had just become a fixture of the band.  Why wouldn’t we be spending time together?  

Harry and I had actually been enjoying ourselves and each other.   The feeling was euphoric and intoxicating.  There was no tension, there were no sad goodbyes, wondering when we might be alone again.  We were together, and that was a good feeling.

****

As we geared up for the release of their newest album though, things took on an even more frenzied pace.  Party after party, press junkets and interviews, and of course, publicity became of the utmost importance.    

“Harry, I’ve seen your schedule, and I don’t think we’ll have much time for this kind of thing anymore, not for a while, at least,” I said as I traced the tattoos on his bare chest.  I rested my chin there as I looked up at him.  

“Are you breaking up with me, then?” he said with a laugh.  I bit him.  “Ouch!” He flipped me over so that he was leaning on top of me, pressing his weight against me as he fit his body to mine.  He looked so beautiful as the sun from the window kissed his skin that it almost took my breath away.  He kissed me.  It was sweet and lazy and perfect.

“I just feel like, when you leave here today, something horrible will happen.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, George,” he said gruffly as his hand trailed down my body, then sliding up my leg as he pulled me closer to him, fitting himself to me.

“Harry.”

Maybe he wasn’t worried, but I was.

The foreboding feeling I had hadn’t been wrong.  As April arrived things were even worse than I expected.  With me having so much work to do, my mother had taken Lily back to New York to spend some time with her other grandparents and I was alone. Colin was now every damn place we were.  I was finding pills in my bag again.  I wasn’t throwing them out.  I was amassing a not-so-small stash that I hid in my underwear drawer.  

Harry still found ways to sneak to my apartment though I could feel the tension growing at exponential rates.  I felt the jealousy a little more strongly each time Harry was out with another girl.  Of course he tried to reassure me, telling me it was nothing, just a photo-op here, a dinner there.   I didn’t think I wanted or needed his explanations and I explained as much to him, so finally he stopped explaining.  I kept telling myself that he needed to be free to have his fun and do his job, but I couldn’t quite give him up.  Even when I tried he refused to leave me alone.  

I kept waiting for things to settle down, to feel okay, but there was no more lying around in bed, touching, talking, laughing. Our liaisons had taken on a frustrated and angry feel.  He would let himself into the apartment, and fuck me against the door, the wall, the counter, the sink. And we’d fall asleep wherever we landed, half clothed, exhausted.

Sometime it was hot.  

Sometimes it left me feeling empty.

****

I had already had a few shots by the time Harry found me standing alone at the edge of the bar.  He pressed into me.  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said as his hand wound through my hair.

“Stop, Harry,” I said as I stepped away from him abruptly, noticing Colin coming towards us.  

“Harry.  Georgia,” Colin said, pulling a blond girl beside him.  I couldn’t remember her name but she was familiar to me as one of the girls that Harry had been “getting close” to per the tabloid reports and twitter feeds.  “I always see the two of you together,” he said, eying me and Harry.

“What of it?” Harry said harshly before softening his tone.  “We’re good friends.”  The words stung though I knew that there was nothing more he could say, nothing more I wanted him to say.  The blond edged up closer to Harry, whispering something in his ear, though he didn’t smile at her.  He was still staring at me.  I was willing him to look away from me, trying to escape the intensity of his gaze.  

“What do you want, Colin?”

“Well, I thought it was important that Harry here be seen leaving with his woman of the hour, instead of hanging out with his ‘friends,’” he said maliciously.  Everything that came out of that mans mouth, just the way he said it, made me want to vomit.  

“I don’t want-” Harry started.

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” Colin spit at him.  “You will take Emily’s hand, and you will leave with her now, whether you want to or not.”

Harry just glared at him.  Emily didn’t seem to mind being talked to like an object—she was probably too drugged to even know what was going on.  That or they were paying her a pretty penny to keep Harry entertained.  

“You will grab her hand, and walk out of the that door, and you will wrap your arm around her as if you love her, and you will leave with her.  And you will take her home—to your place, Harry.”  My stomach sunk.  

“Jesus Christ, Colin.”

“What do you care, Georgia?  He’s just a friend, right?  Why shouldn’t he go home with a beautiful girl—his own age—and have a little fun?  Is there some reason he shouldn’t?”  

“You better just go, Harry,” I said in a whisper.  

“But….”

“Go.”  I said, and he turned and walked away, angrily grabbing Emily’s hand.

“What a good little boy, listening to his mommy,” jeered Colin as he leaned in closer to me.  “What don’t you come and play with the grownups?”  He shoved something into my pocket.  I shuddered.  

“I think I’ll just go home.”

“Suit yourself.”  

Harry came to me that night, and as he kissed me in the early morning hours, gathering his things to leave, I felt a hollow void opening inside of me.  I cried as the sun came up, hating myself, again, mad that I kept falling into this role again, feeling used again.  I tried to tell myself that Harry wasn’t like that, as I always did, and part of me knew that Harry was kind and good, but how much convincing can one person do.  I had been entranced by the light of the tour through Europe and now I was being cornered by the darkness of reality.  Still, I did nothing.  Except play along, and drink too much.  And the steady supply of pills that Colin shoved in my bag, my pocket, my hand, helped me escape the hatred I was feeling for everything.  

I wanted it all to end.

But as always, the show must go on.

****

Some sick stupid part of me was hopeful that there would be some miracle, that one day I’d wake up and be able to forget all of the bad things, that I’d wake up and be happy.  There’s something to be said for hope, isn’t there?  Even if it is misguided and misplaced.

It was with that hope that I ignored the pills in my drawer that morning.

It was with that hope that I went to the hotel that afternoon and smiled and laughed and helped the guys get dressed for their album release party.

It was with that hope that I let Niall dance me around the room, and I let Zayn tear the sleeves off an expensive leather jacket.  I handed Liam a drink, and I kissed Louis on the cheek.  

And when Harry playfully pulled me into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, it was with that hope that I let him make love to me against the cold white tiles while the hot water poured down on us.   

I walked behind them on the red carpet.  I hurried up to them and made sure their shirts were tucked, their collars straight, their shoes tied as the flashbulbs went off.  

I shook the hands of famous people and friends.  I commiserated with other stylists and makeup artists and hairdressers.  

I walked into the club and I stood where I was supposed to stand and I sang along while they performed, and I danced with each of them in turn. 

It was a good night.

At least, the parts I remembered were good.  If I could have just had those parts, I think that maybe things would have turned out differently.

The next day, I woke up around noon to a horrible hangover and little recollection of the nights events.  My phone was buzzing with an urgency I hadn’t heard in a long time, and I picked it up, squinting at the harsh light in the dim room.  

I opened the first alert: Harry and Georgia Rose seen leaving CD release party

_Ok.  So what._

Then the next: “Sources say Harry was seen making out with band’s stylist”

_These ‘Sources’ could kiss my ass._

And the next: A picture of us holding hands and laughing.

_Innocent enough._

And the next: a picture of us, against a wall, Harry’s hand beneath my dress.

_Shit._

I looked over at Harry sleeping beside me.  He looked so lovely and innocent, and for a moment I thought that maybe this would be it.  This would be the day that we would let the world know, that things would be okay, that all the madness would stop.  Even entertaining these thoughts were dangerous, but something about being called out into the open felt freeing even if I knew it could be damning.

“Harry,” I nudged him.  “Harry, wake up.”

“Mhmmm?” He rolled over and pulled me to him, kissing me.  I let him.  

“Harry, darling, we have a problem,” I said against his chest.

“I certainly have a problem,” he grinned as he slid on top of me.  “Ugh, my head hurts.”  He rolled off again.  “What happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think we screwed up.”  I showed him the day’s headlines.  

“Well, then, secrets out I guess?  We can stop hiding and actually enjoy ourselves,” he said assuredly.  

“Somehow, I don’t think that is how it will all go down,” I said grimly as I heard a knock on the door.  “Fuck.  Who could that be?  Stay here.”

I pulled on a shirt and pants and walked toward the door.  “Georgia?  It’s me, open up.” Magda said from the other side of the door. _Shit, shit, shit_.

“Um, Magda, hi?” I said as she came into the room.

“Georgia, I’m not exactly sure what is going on, but it is a big problem.”

“Um,” I replied.  Every word she said sent a knife through my skull.

“Look, I don’t really give a damn about what goes on behind closed doors, or, quite frankly, open ones, but we really can’t have this,” she said as she threw down a stack of pictures, all of me and Harry from last night.  I looked at her, but didn’t have anything to say.  “I don’t really know what you two are playing at.  Georgia, don’t you have anything to say?”  My head was pounding.

“Not really.”

“Look Georgia, I’m not a fool.  I’m not surprised that this is going on.  But, these sorts of things, when they get out, have to be dealt with accordingly.”  Something about the way she said it made me feel angry.

“I think that certain people on your staff need to be dealt with accordingly.  That asshole drugged us last night, I’m sure of it.”

“You know I can’t do anything about that.”  

“Case closed, I guess.”

“Magda, love, come to congratulate us, have you?” Harry said, walking out of the room in only his boxers. My eyes swept over him with a jolt of longing and fear.

“Harry, that isn’t funny.”  I said.

“Harry, this isn’t okay.  Georgia is a staff member, and we really can’t be having indiscretions such as these.”

“I’d hardly call it an indiscretion,” he answered.  I shot him a warning look.  “What?” he said innocently.

“Nothing.  So, Magda, what is the point of your visit?”

“Damage control.”

“Well, obviously, damage control.  I meant, specifically, what is your plan for controlling the damage?”

“You are leaving tomorrow.  Harry will be staying here.”

“Leaving?  Where am I going?”

“Ireland.”

"Ireland?!"  Harry and I said in unison.

"What the fuck is in Ireland?" As I asked the question I was sure I didn’t want to know the answer.

"Rehab."

Rehab?

“She doesn’t—” Harry began.  

"The pictures say otherwise."  Magda pointed to a stack of pictures on the table.  Underneath the pictures of Harry and I were other ones.  They weren’t pretty.  A party, a table of drinks, cocaine.  Me, half naked, snorting it.  

"Jesus."

"She doesn’t need fucking rehab."

I probably did.

“She does, Harry.”

“I want her to stay here.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want.”

“But I’m—”

“You are the star of the show Harry, but you aren’t captain of the ship.  It doesn’t matter what you want.”  I could see how that stung Harry.  

“I can’t, believe it,” he said, the anger edging in.

“Harry, don’t make it worse.”

“I’ll leave you two for now, you can figure your own way out of here—or not—for today, but tomorrow morning, Georgia, you’re on a plane.  I’ll send the final details to you this afternoon.”

I just looked at Harry as he stood there, shirtless, running his hands through his hair.  He crossed the room to embrace me, slipping his arms around me and lifting me slightly.  

“It’ll be okay, Georgia.”

It would never be okay.

My lips rested on his collarbone, over the words he put there for me, our little secret… and I thought, sadly, that for the rest of his life, he would be permanently marked by a lie.


	13. The land of I don’t give a fuck.

I drank four small bottles of whiskey on the one hour flight to Dublin and then I drank four small bottles of vodka sitting in the back of a car on the drive to the middle of nowhere.  I probably would have thought the scenery was beautiful if I had looked.

When the driver dropped me off in front of some castle looking place I sat on the curb.  I sat there and I looked over my shoulder at this stupid castle and I looked ahead at the rolling green hills and I didn’t have a fucking clue where I was.

I knew what was going to happen.  Rehab was not a new concept for me.   They would take my liquor and my pills and my phone and my life.  They would make me talk about my feelings, they would make me sit in a circle with ten other people and make me tell my story.  They would pretend I was just another anonymous patient, but they would talk behind my back because unless they were living under a rock, they’d know who I was.  

I didn’t want to do this.

Maybe I should do this.

Maybe I should do this for…someone.  

I needed to do this for me.

I called my mother.  She didn’t answer.  I had called her after the news broke, and she had cried on the phone.  And when I told her it wasn’t true, that it was a set up, that I didn’t have a problem, she didn’t believe me.  

I didn’t have the best track record, I guess.

I called Darcy.  She told me in a very no-nonsense way that I needed to get my act together, to suck it up, get through the next three weeks, and that she’d talk to me when I got out.

I called Harry.  He told me not to worry.  He told me that it would be okay.  He told me that he hated Magda and she was a fool who didn’t know anything.

I wondered who was really the fool here.  Harry?  Me?  Both of us?  

It wasn’t Magda.  

When I cried into the phone, he cried too.  

“Tell me where you are.  I’ll come get you,” he told me.

“She can’t actually make you do this,” he told me.

“You don’t need rehab,” he told me.

“I love you,” he told me.

Through my tears I told him not to come, that I would be fine, that I’d be back before he knew it.  I told him that he had a job to do and that he should stop worrying about me.  

I called Harry because I knew that he trusted me.  I called Harry because I knew that he’d tell me what I wanted to hear.  I called Harry because he really believed that I didn’t need to be here, that I didn’t have a problem, that everyone else was overreacting.

I shouldn’t have called him.  

Magda probably should have paid someone to make sure I walked through those doors.

****

“Where are you?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“What do you need?’

“A car.”

“Not a problem, what else?”

“A hotel room.”

“Got it.  What else?”

“Booze.  A lot of it.”

“Anything to go with that booze?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Colin was more than happy to come through.  Within 30 minutes, I was in a car and another thirty minutes later I was in a well appointed hotel room.  He had come through in the booze department.  He had added a few details of his own.  I looked out of the big window at the lush landscape.  I guess Colin thought that I’d at least go out in style.  I pulled the curtains closed.

Fucking Colin.  I was not here to kill myself.  I flushed the pills.  It was the hardest thing I had done in a long time, but I had made a deal with myself.  I wasn’t going to rehab, but I would not go the opposite way either.  I just needed a vacation, some time to think, some time to remember, some time to forget.  

I crawled into the bed and cried.

After spending a week in a dark room, mostly drunk and crying, I forced myself to open the curtains.  I squinted into the sunlight.  Then I picked up my phone.  There were hundreds of unread emails, unheard voice mails, ignored text messages.  The last one was from Harry:

_“I just want to see you smile again.”_

I deleted everything else.  Then I showered, and I put on some clean clothes that made it obvious I hadn’t eaten in a week, and I went to the restaurant in the hotel lobby.  Then I went back to the room, topped off my eggs and toast with a cocktail, and went back to bed.

The next morning, I woke up feeling hungover.  I didn’t know what that meant, but I thought that if I was hungover that meant I wasn’t still drunk and that maybe that was a good thing.  I swallowed some tylenol and went for a walk outside.  

The morning after that, I called Magda.

“Where are you, Georgia?  I know you never checked in.”

“Ireland.”

“Are you okay?”

“Working on it.”

“I was about to send a search party for you, but Colin said that you were okay.”

“And you believed him, I take it.”

“Was he wrong?”

“If ‘okay’ means ‘not dead’ then yes, I was okay.”

“Are you okay now?”

“I think so.”

“Everyone misses you.”

“You’re the one who sent me away!”

“I had to.”

“I think ‘had’ is stretching it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and I immediately felt guilty for making her feel guilty.  

“It’s alright.  I needed some time away,” I told her.  “I mean it.  Things were getting out of control.”

“Harry misses you.”

“I know….”

“Are you ready to come home?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Magda?  Can you do a couple of things for me?”

“Sure.”

“Can you call my mother and tell her I’m okay?”

“Of course.  What else?”

“Don’t tell Harry I’m coming home.”


	14. London

I just wanted to be able to go home, to sleep, to gather myself together.  I didn’t want to be greeted by Harry and a thousand of his closest screaming fans;  I didn’t want anyone watching my every move because of Harry.  I didn’t want flashbulbs to go off in my face.  I didn’t want the papers to speculate about my stay in rehab. 

I arrived quietly, and I stayed in my apartment.  I answered my emails, and I cleaned out the refrigerator.  I scrubbed the bathroom floor and I had groceries delivered and I cooked some healthy meals.  I called my mother who was reluctant to accept that I was better, but she let me talk to Lily and I felt happy.  

And then I called Harry.  

He sounded so happy to hear from me.  Hearing his voice on the other end made me feel good, like everything was going to be okay.  He said that he had an engagement that night, but that he’d be over as soon as it was through.

The hours ticked by, but Harry didn’t come.  I told myself that he was working, of course, and that it would probably be pretty late before he showed up.

I knew I shouldn’t have, but I googled his name.  And because I did that I saw that he was on a dinner date with some girl.  Then I clicked on another link, this one a story about me.  It wasn’t flattering, but so be it.  And then something else caught my eye and I clicked again and I was reading a story about Tom.  They were doing a special feature as the 10th anniversary of his first album release approached.  It was a good piece.  It was flattering without being false; it was honest without being harsh.  It made me miss him.  

I spent another hour searching for Tom on the internet.  I spent the next hour listening to his songs.  The ones he wrote for me when he loved me; the ones he wrote when I loved him.  The ones he wrote when I hated him.  The ones he wrote when he hated me.  

Then I listened to the ones he wrote when he didn’t care anymore.  

I shouldn’t have done that.  I could take the loving, and I could take the hating.  At least if he hated me he still felt something for me, right?  

The indifference was what killed me.

I sent Harry a text telling him to stay away.

He replied but I deleted it, and the ones that followed, without reading.

I finished the bottle of wine, and then searched through my cabinets for something else.  And then I remembered my underwear drawer.  

The thing is, I should have walked through those fucking doors of that fucking castle in fucking Ireland.

I was sitting in a dark room listening to some of the last songs that Tom had written when I heard a knock.  It was past midnight.  I knew it was Harry, and I didn’t want to answer.  He wouldn’t give up though, so eventually I stalked to the door and threw it open.  

His eyes were red—from crying or from alcohol, I couldn’t tell.  Maybe both.  

“What do you want?” I said as he walked into the apartment.  

“You,” he replied simply as he walked toward me.

“No,” I said angrily.  

“Are you drunk?” he asked with some surprise.

“Are you?” I tossed back.  He ran his hands through his hair as he surveyed the apartment.

"You drink alone now?” He picked up the half empty bottle of tequila.

“Who said I was alone?” He looked like I had slapped him.  His eyes seemed to be searching for evidence of a second person.

“Who?”

“Who what?”

“Who are you with?”

“Jesus.  No one.  What’s with the jealous act?” I said as I grabbed the bottle from him and took a drink.

“Jealous act?”

“Yeah, jealous act.  You come storming in here demanding to know my business like you own me or something.”  

“Own you?  What are you talking about?”  He was genuinely confused.  I just laughed at him and plopped down into a chair, almost falling to the floor.  He rushed toward me, but I waved him away.

“I hardly need your help.”

“What is going on?  I don’t even understand,” he said helplessly, once again running his hands through his hair nervously.

“What don’t you understand Harry?”

“Why you’re so angry with me.  Why you’re ignoring my messages.  Why you’re…like this right now.”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot Harry.  You know exactly what is going on.”

“You aren’t making any sense, Georgia.  Can you just calm down?  Have a glass of water or something?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I think you should just go.”  I said coldly.  I felt oddly calm.

“Fuck!” He yelled in a sudden outburst,  “I cannot, CANNOT, fucking do this shit.  Is this about dinner tonight?”  I just looked at him. “I am sick of this shit, Georgia.  I am tired of having to explain myself every goddamn second.  Nothing happened.  Nothing.  It was all a show, staged.  Do I really have to tell you that?  Don’t you believe me?”  He slid to the floor and brought his head to his knees.  

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”  

He looked up at that, his eyes wet with unshed tears.  I wanted to comfort him, to put my arms around him and kiss him and crawl into bed with him.  Instead, I stayed where I was.  He jumped up and started toward me.  

“Don’t, Harry.”  I said.  I stood up again and backed away from him, but he covered the distance between us, pulling me toward him, crushing my mouth to his.  “Get.  Off.  Me,” I said against his mouth, pushing him away.  He looked at me in surprise.

“Georgia…”

“Stop!  Stop trying to act like this is okay!”

“But, I thought….”

“You thought that you’d get a pretty sweet deal here, is what I think, Harry.  You can go off and have your little flings, go home with a different girl every night, kissing her sweetly in the mornings, and then come here and fuck me, like I’m some sort of resort you visit when you need a little vacation?”

“What?  Is that what you think this is?  That I’m just playing around…using you?”

“Yeah, it is what I think.”

“Come on…,” he said, his voice getting quieter, changing tactics.  Some part of me wanted to stop this madness but I had lost control.  “I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Too late for that,  _love_ ,” I said sarcastically.

“Georgia, please, _please_ listen to me.”

“I’ve heard it all before Harry.  I don’t need to listen to you.  You’ll say all the right things and I’ll fall for it again just like I always do.  I’ll let you crawl in my bed and let you touch me and say sweet things to me where no one can see.  Our little secret, right?”

“That was all you.  All YOU,” he pointed at me, his voice rising.  “You are the one who wanted to keep this quiet, who wouldn’t be seen with me in public, who hides me in her apartment because, what?  Because you don’t want anyone to know?  Because you know what’s fucking best for me?  You’re no better than the rest of them, are you?”  

“Probably not.”

“I really thought that you were different.  I thought we were okay.  I thought that we had an understanding.”

“We did, Harry.  We did have an understanding.  But now, I’m understanding what is really happening here, and I’m over it, to be honest.  I’ve got better things to do than entertain you.  What is it about me, Harry, that keeps you coming back?  Hmm?  The way I touch you?  The way I tangle my hands in your hair as I moan your name?  Is that what gets you off?  Do you like the way I open my legs for you at nothing more than a dimpled grin?”

"Georgia."  It was barely a whisper, his voice breaking.  He looked absolutely bewildered.  

"Do you get off on the sneaking around, playing cat and mouse, feeling like a god?  Having everyone you want, whenever you want?"

"Stop it.  Please, stop."

I moved toward him, touching him.  I could feel him responding to me, even in his anger and confusion.  

I pressed my body against his, my hands on his chest, his heart beating rapidly against my hand.

"Does it make you feel powerful," I whispered against his ear, "the way you slip your hand between my legs and and make me come?"

He didn’t move, but I could feel his body shaking.  I slipped my hands under his shirt and run my fingers along his bare back.

"Don’t," he breathed.

"Or is it the way I bite your shoulder and dig my fingers into your skin as you fuck me, until I’m trembling beneath you?"

"I can’t…."  

"Harry," I whispered, the way I always did for him.

He grabbed my wrists and forced my hands to my side, pushing me away from him.

"Why are you doing this?"  

He backed away from me.  I glared at him as he leaned against the wall.

I watched as the tears streamed down his face.

I watched as he sank to the floor and his body shook.

I watched as I destroyed something, someone, that I loved.  Again.

"How can you twist what we had into something so awful?"  He looked up at me.  

The look on his face made it clear that he was devastated and heartbroken.  

"Why?" He sobbed.

"Don’t you have some other girl to fuck?"  

_Nail, meet coffin._

"Georgia.  I fucking trusted you—”

“Joke’s on you.”

“Yeah.  I guess,” he said, defeated as he stood and walked to the door. “But that wasn’t even my worst mistake, was it?  The real joke,  _love_ , is that I fucking fell in love with you.”

He looked at me, and it was a soul-crushing, heart breaking look.

"I know you didn’t believe me when I said it.  And honestly?  I thought I would lose my mind when you didn’t say it back.  But I thought that maybe you were just scared.  I see that isn’t the case.”

“Harry.”  What was I doing?  What had I done?

“I give up,” he said, and slammed the door behind him.

I looked around in bewildered confusion, I didn’t know what to do until I saw the bottle of pills on the counter.  As I shook them into my hand, I hated myself.  As I swallowed them, I hated everything.  

I slid to the floor, Tom’s heartbreaking songs of indifference the soundtrack to my defeat. 


	15. London

I woke up in my own bed and started to sit up when I heard the door open.  I winced as pain sliced through my head.  “You’re up then, love?  I’ve brought you a cup of tea.”  

“Louis?”

“’Tis me, in the flesh.”  He didn’t smile as he sat on the bed.  “How are you feeling?”

“Awful,” I groaned, attempting a weak smile.

“You gave me quite a scare.”   

“I don’t…I don’t remember what happened,” I admitted, embarrassment creeping in.

“I’m not really sure what happened.  You called me and it sounded bad, so I came right over.  You were barely conscious, mumbling about pills and tequila.  And Harry.”

“Shit.”

“I don’t know exactly what led to this chain of events, but you were in a pretty bad state, Georgia.”

“I’m sorry, Louis.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I don’t know what I was thinking.  I just…I guess I didn’t know who else to call.”  Hot tears escaped from my eyes and fell down my cheeks. “I’m such a horrible mess.  God.  I don’t know what to do,” I cried, putting my face in my hands.  

My phone buzzed on the table, it was a text from Harry that said, _“I’m outside, let me in.”_  I showed it to Louis.

What was he doing here?  The nights events weren’t entirely clear, but the feeling, deep inside me, and the scattering of words that I remembered were painfully so.

“I can’t see him.”

“What should I tell him, then?”

“I don’t know.  Whatever you want.  The truth?  That I can’t do this, and I don’t want to see him?  God, that’s unfair to ask you.  Just…just make him go away.”

Louis nodded and left the room.

“What are you doing here?” I heard Harry ask Louis.  “Where’s Georgia?”  I felt panicked as I heard his footsteps coming toward my room.

“She’s asleep,” he answered, and Harry stopped.   “What happened last night, Harry?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you see her last night?”

“Yes.”

“So you know what happened.”

“No.  I have no fucking clue what happened.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“She asked me to come over, but then she changed her mind.”

“But you came anyway?”

“Of course.”

“Harry.”

“What?” he said sharply.  “I wanted to see her.  I needed to see her.”

“And was it worth it?”

I couldn’t hear Harry’s response—if there even was one.

“Is she okay, Lou?”

“I don’t know.”

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

“Harry.  Don’t. I think you should leave her alone.”

“I’ll just wait until she wakes up, then.”

“No, I mean I think you should leave her alone, period.”

“What?”  I could hear the surprise in Harry’s voice.  “What are you even talking about?”

“You need to leave her alone—you need to let her go.”

“Look, I don’t know what she told you, but—”

“She didn’t tell me much, considering she was incoherent when I got here.  What did you do to her?”

“Do to her?  What did she do to me, is more like it.”

“This isn’t about you.  I love you, but you just don’t get it.  You can’t just waltz in and out of here, acting like things are fine all the time.  They’re not.”

“I don’t understand….” Harry said.

“No, you don’t understand, and I can’t explain it all to you Harry, because it isn’t mine to explain, and I probably don’t even know the half of it, really.  But she is not okay, and you are making things worse.  I know you’ve known her forever, and so you think you know her now.  But you don’t.”

“And now you are some expert?”

“I’m not saying that, I’m just saying that she is broken, and beaten down, and no matter what your intentions are, she is not strong enough to deal with it.”

“My intentions?!  I was just doing what she wanted!  I don’t get why she can’t fucking trust me.”

“She doesn’t know what trust is.  And whatever it is you think that you are doing, it just isn’t a good idea.”

I heard a fist slam into something and I shrank into my pillows.  

“I am not going to walk away.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.  She cannot watch you going out with a different girl every night and read the stories in the paper, and wait for you to come crawling to her in the middle of the night.”

“I cannot stay away from her, Lou.”

“You have to.  You have to walk out that door, you have to do your job, you have to let her do her job, and you have to stay away from her.  It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple, Lou.”

“Yes, it is.”

“It isn’t—,” I heard his voice break.  “Louis.  I love her.”  I could imagine Harry at this moment, sitting there, with his head in his hands, fingers tugging on his hair, and it broke my heart into a million pieces.  

“Harry, mate, I’m sorry. But if you love her, you need to go.  I’ll call you later.”  

It was quiet after that.  I could hear Louis moving through the apartment, no doubt cleaning up last night’s mess, probably wishing he had never met me.  I don’t think that Louis meant for me to hear what he had told Harry, but then again, maybe he did.  

I cried into the pillow until I fell asleep.

****

Two weeks later, I was back at work.  I had, at the urging of Louis—and not being able to deny there was a problem—agreed to see a therapist.  I spent my mornings talking about my feelings, and my afternoons working.  I hadn’t had a drink in two weeks, and I was finally, actually, feeling optimistic.  Louis was spending a lot of time with me.  I knew he was watching me, and part of me hated it, but the other part was grateful.  

I hadn’t heard from Harry.  At first, I stared at my phone as the time passed, waiting, hoping, crying, hating myself for getting what I asked for.  But after the first week, I stopped thinking that way.  I knew that it was for the best, that space was the only thing that had any chance of fixing the problem between us.  And even then the chances probably weren’t that good.

Standing in that dressing room, I was dreading seeing Harry.  I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this, face my mistakes, move on.  I didn’t know how or if Harry and I would recover, but that was something I knew I would have to live with.  I was trying to concentrate on hemming a shirt, trying to ignore the increasing anxiety I felt, the urge to find a drink and swallow it in one gulp, when the door slammed open.

“Is this shit true?” Harry asked in a low voice.

“Is what true?”  

He shoved a glossy magazine in my face.  

_Georgia and Louis…Louis’ heartbroken girlfriend.  Leaving Harry behind…rift in the band…history repeating itself…every Rose has it’s thorn._

If I had been reading that somewhere else or some other time, I might have laughed.  But at that moment, and with the way Harry was looking at me, laughter was the furthest thing from my mind.

“No, Harry,” I whispered.  This couldn’t be happening.  

“This is low, Georgia, even for you.  How could you?  You and Louis?  My best friend?”  

I tried to find something to say that would make him believe me, but I knew that my credibility was shot.  “Harry, this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?  He’s with you constantly, always at your house—for what?  You’re avoiding every place I am, you haven’t picked up the phone to call me.  Why?  Because you are too busy with fucking Louis?  I’m going to kill him.”  

“Is he not allowed to come to my house?”

"If that were all it was, but it’s obvious it isn’t,” he said to me.

“Obvious?  These pictures are innocent.”

“This one isn’t fucking innocent,” he said and he held up another picture.  A grainy picture.  A picture that was perfectly damning, if you didn’t know the context.  It was a picture of me, barely dressed, and Louis laying on a bed with his arms wrapped around me, my head on his chest.  That was the night Colin had come after me.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I told him.  It sounded so lame to say it, but it was the truth.

“It never is.”

“This was taken months ago, Harry.  We were in Spain.”

“Spain?”  His voice was a whisper as he raised his head to look at me, a horrified look on his face.  

“Harry…,” I started, wishing there was some way I could stop this.  

“Spain,” He said again.  “This has been going on since _Spain_?  Are you _kidding_ me?”  His voice got louder with every word he said.

“No, Harry, _listen,_ ” I pleaded.

“This whole time you’ve been fucking my best friend?!  After everything?    I can’t believe you led me on like this.”

“Harry!  Listen to me.  It isn’t what you think!”  Why couldn’t I find the right thing to say?

He was pacing the room like a caged animal.  I opened my mouth to try and explain, but it was too late.  He froze as the door opened and his head shot up.  He was across the room in seconds, gripping Louis by his shoulders, and pushing him against the wall..

“What the hell, Harry?” Louis said, stunned.

“Harry!!”  I shouted, racing toward him.  “Let him go!”  Harry dropped him abruptly.  

“What is wrong with him?” Louis looked to me.  I shoved the picture at him.  

“I can’t believe, after everything I told you, Louis, that you would do this to me,” Harry said.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t.  fucking.  lie.  to. me.  I can see it with my own eyes.”

“Well, this is rich, Harry.”  I said, anger boiling inside of me.  “Louis, leave.”  

“I’m not—” he started.

“Just.  Leave.  You have been wonderful and I appreciate it, but really, you don’t need to be a part of this shit anymore.”  He looked at me for a moment, assessing the situation, and then walked out.  Harry was still pacing the floor, then stopped abruptly, slamming his hand against the wall, hard enough to make me jump.

“How could you screw around with Louis?  And he’s got a goddamn girlfriend?”

“You are absolutely unbelievable.  You come in here accusing me and your best friend, of something that is an obvious fabrication.  Yet you expect me to believe you, without one shred of doubt, repeatedly.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Grow up, Harry.  I always believed you.  But that didn’t make it any easier to watch and be a part of.  That’s what you don’t get.  I couldn’t handle it, and I own that.  But the fact that you would come in here behaving the way you just did, reacting to something this ridiculous?  Attacking Louis, of all people?  Well, it’s nice to see what you really think of me.”  His face fell with every word I said, panic setting in.  

I knew, the way his face fell, the way the anger and the rage suddenly left his eyes, the way he looked so defeated, that he didn’t really believe all that he was accusing us of.  I knew that he was angry, and he didn’t understand and he needed some sort of explanation for the way I had treated him, the things I had said.  But I wasn’t going to be bullied into confessions and explanations.

“I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.  I am done with all of this.  I never should have taken this job, but what’s done is done.  I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“Good,” he said flatly.

I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I walked past him.  I was afraid that if I looked any longer I would break, and I was tired of breaking, of being broken, of being weak.  I had hit my low point, and I knew, without a doubt, that I had to cut this off in order to save myself.  And to save them—the band, their friendships, everything.  

“Yes, Harry.  It will be good,” I answered, my hand on the door knob, not looking at him.  “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

*****

“I’m done, Magda,” I said as I sat in the chair across from her.  “I’m leaving tomorrow.”  

“Please, reconsider, Georgia.”

“No.  This shit with Louis was the last straw.”

“It was just gossip, these things happen.”

“It wasn’t just gossip, it was planted.  It has Colin’s hands all over it.  He wanted to stir up some bullshit to create a sensation when he didn’t manage kill me off any number of times.  Louis and I are friends, and he has helped me a lot.  I’ve made my own mistakes, and I get that, but I can’t come between them.”

“But it will pass, just like all of this does.  You know that.”

“Will it pass?  Maybe.  It always passes until there’s the next thing to get past.  I can’t handle this cycle.  I’ve fucked up with Harry, and it went to a place it never should have gone.  But this? This is beyond.  You should have seen how Harry stormed in there, full of hatred and accusations, attacking Louis.  It was really ugly to see.  I will not be a part of it anymore.  I have been down this road before.  I know how this will end and I am not going to do that to myself, or to them.”

“Is there anything I can do to keep you?  Maybe they’d be willing to ditch Colin at this point in exchange for you?”

“Why would that have changed?  They weren’t willing before.  Look…the seed has already been planted, Magda.  Colin doesn’t matter anymore.  We’ve all played our parts, some betters than others, I suppose, but my role is over.  My assistant can handle things for now.  I am leaving London and I am going home to New York, and I am going back to my normal life.  I appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me,” I told her, because it seemed like the right thing to say, but I wasn’t sure I believed myself.  

She started to say something as I stood up, but I stopped her.  “Magda, I can assure you that no matter what you say or what you offer me right now, I will not accept.  My things are packed, my tickets are purchased, and I will be at home, in New York where I need to be by tomorrow evening.”  I stood to leave.

She walked around her desk to where I stood and hugged me.  “It seems you’ve made up your mind, then, and I won’t stop you.  I’m sorry that it had to come to this.  But don’t doubt that I will be in touch.”

****

When I heard the knock on my door, I knew exactly who it was.  I knew I shouldn’t have answered it, but I did anyway, because that’s who I am. 

He stood there, his hair wet from the rain plastered to his face.  The water ran in rivulets down his face, indistinguishable from tears.  

When he stepped into the room and wrapped his arms around my waist, I wrapped my arms around his neck.  

When he kissed me, his lips salty, his tongue minty, I kissed him back.

When he tugged at my shirt, damp from his own that was rain soaked, I lifted my arms so he could pull it off.  

When he ran his cold hands from my neck, to my shoulders and down my arms, I shivered.   

And when he pulled my hands to him, his thumbs on the scars there, and he whispered, “I’m sorry,” I told him I was sorry too.  

When he put his hand on my waist and started tugging at the button on my jeans, I put my hands on his and stopped him.  

He looked up at me.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I told him.  

He nodded.

“Whatever happens, that won’t change,” I told him.

He said he understood.

“Maybe you should go,” I told him.

“Only if you want me to,” he said.  “Do you want me to?”

And what should I have said?  I knew the right answer, but I wasn’t going to make the right choice.

“No,” I whispered.  “But that doesn’t change anything.”

“I know,” he whispered into my hair.

When he moved against me and looked into my eyes, I reached up and brushed the curls from his face, and I pulled his head to my shoulder so I wouldn’t have to see the way his emotions were laid bare on his face.

We were saying goodbye and each moment, each touch was punctuated by a sadness at how wrong everything had gone.

It was perfect and melancholy and wonderful and unbearable.

****

When I woke up in the morning, his body was curled against my back, his arm holding me to him, his hand flat against the skin between my breasts.  

I lay there, my hand clasped over his and I stayed there for as long as I reasonably could.  It was early, and I had a flight to catch.  

When I moved, trying to find a way to escape without waking him, I felt his arm tighten around me, and I felt his lips on my back between my shoulder blades.  The room silent except for the sounds of our breathing, the room still but for the rise and fall of our chests.  

After a few moments, moments that were at the same time too short and too long, he moved his arm, sliding it away from me slowly, his fingers touching every inch of skin as he rolled away from me until all I could feel was the tips of his fingers resting lightly against my back.  I was afraid to move, afraid to break that contact, afraid that it was the last time he’d ever touch me.  And then I felt his weight shift on the bed and the hot imprint on my skin where his fingers had just been resting.

I turned toward him, but he was facing away from me, lying on his stomach, arms hugging the pillow under his head.

When I whispered his name into the silence, he shook his head ever so slightly.

He wasn’t just letting me go.  

He was letting go of me.


	16. New York

"Wow, Georgia, they’re really tearing you up,” Darcy said as she and scanned the various headlines.  “What the hell happened over there?”  I groaned in displeasure as I took a sip of coffee, avoiding her question.

The press had really latched on to this Louis-Harry-Georgia love triangle bullshit.  It had been going on for a couple of weeks now, and they just wouldn’t let it go.  Me leaving in a hurry didn’t help matters at all, and the rumor mill was getting out of control.  I didn’t doubt that the majority of it had to do with Colin, but I knew that we had all made some mistakes.  

“I mean, why do they even care?  Why tear you apart?”

“It’s all that bastard Colin.  He’s got some vendetta against me.”

“So it’s all lies?”

“It is mostly lies.”

“Mostly?”

“Mostly lies, some half-truths, and then some…not lies.”

“Some 'not lies?’  What exactly does that mean?”  

I had been feeling refreshed since I landed in New York.  My abrupt departure had been noticed, though I doubted many people actually cared.  

“Well, the thing where Louis and I were hooking up?  A definite lie.  The thing where I left the band in disgrace, drugged out and used up?  Pretty much a lie, though that might depend on interpretation.  The part where I was out of control with my drinking, drugs, whatever.  Well.  You know that part.  The part about being a band-slash-friendship destroying whore?  Mostly a lie, with a whiff of truth.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted.  But okay.”

“I don’t understand how it got so bad.”

“Once an addict, always an addict?”

“But, you had been doing so well, and that doesn’t account for all the other stuff.”  

I shrugged at her.  “Actually, it kind of does.”

“And you’re handling all of this alright?” She says, waving the paper in front of me.

“I’m not going to lie and tell you that I would like to get wasted right now and forget about all of it, but I’m not going to.  I haven’t had more than a glass of wine in weeks.  I just wish I could have gotten things under control before it took such a toll.”

“Georgia, I’m sorry, I had no idea how bad it was.  I should have—.”

“There was nothing you could have done.   It was just too hard being in that environment, and things happened that just hit me the wrong way and I didn’t cope well.  It didn’t help that Colin fucking Hawthorne was there to egg me on.  Whoever thought he would be a good addition to that crew is an idiot.”

“It says here that he’s been sacked.  Some scandal where a model overdosed and they implied that the boys were to blame or something?”

“I heard.  It isn’t really true, based on what I’ve been told.  They wouldn’t actually have anything to do with that, but the model od’ing part is true.  It has Colin’s hands all over it.  They brought him in to help give a more ‘mature’ feel to the band.  Looks like he took it a little too far.”

“You always said he was a bastard.”

“That’s probably an understatement.  He was dredging up old shit, and he was slipping me pills, and he was doing things that just really, really sucked.  And I let it get to me.  That’s the suckiest part.  That I let it get to me, and I let it ruin things, let it destroy things.”

“Things like?”

“Things like my friendship with Harry.”

“So you and Harry aren’t friends anymore?”

“I haven’t talked to him since I left London.”

“At all?”  I shook my head.  “So, the things about you and Harry in the papers, those are true?”

“True?  I guess it depends on how you want to see it.”

“I want to see it how it really was.”

“I don’t know, Darcy, I mean, I don’t know if I should even talk about it.”

“Well, it can’t be worse than the things they are saying here—Love triangles, bitter public battles, pregnancy scare?”

“What?!  That one is just ridiculous.  These stupid papers will write anything.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“Fine.”  I said, running my fingers through my hair—a habit of Harry’s I missed.  “The truth is that, at first, we were just friends, right?  Which you saw.  And then, of course, that night that seems so long ago, where I told you we made out, right?  I thought it was just a drunken mistake. One of those movie-like moments where you pour your soul out and all of that.  Then, there was New Orleans where we….”

“Georgia,” she said playfully and smacked me on the shoulder.  “You’re blushing.”

“Yeah, well.  So, in New Orleans, one thing led to another…,” I don’t know why I was feeling shy about this.  It wasn’t really like me.  But, I guess because it was Harry, it felt special somehow, even though it all went down in flames. “And then….god, it feels like a lifetime ago.  We were in California, and things were fine until they weren’t.  They brought on Colin.”  Part of me wanted to tell her all of it, but I kept it simple.  “The second half of Europe was quite lovely actually.  And then, the stress, and the lies, and the partying and the girls.  It all just became too much.  Harry and I had a huge blow up.  God it was awful.  I was trashed, and I said horrible things.”

“He probably deserved it, playing around like he did.”

“I don’t think he was playing around, Darcy.”

She raised her eyebrows at me.  I could feel this ache in my chest, spreading until I felt like I couldn’t breath.  

“I’m the one who wanted to keep it a secret.  I’m the one who kept encouraging him to play the part, do his job and all that other stupid bullshit.  And then I turned on him.  When he was the only one who…he believed that I was good and that I was worth something, and I just couldn’t believe him.  And I pushed him away, so far away, that I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get past that.”

“I hardly doubt it was as bad as all of that,” Darcy said sympathetically.  

“I can assure you, it was worse.  He told me he loved me,” I said as I looked up at her.  

“God.  I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“There’s nothing to say to it, Darcy.  It is what it is.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“No.  The next time I saw him he was accusing me and Louis, and that’s when I decided to leave.”  I didn’t tell her about the last time I saw him.

“And you and Louis?”

“Friends.  He saw me for what I was, I think.  His judgement wasn’t clouded.  And he helped me.  I’d be willing to bet that Harry didn’t believe those rumors for a second.  He just wanted a reason, outside of himself or me, to explain why I was so awful to him.  He was hurt.  And I did that to him.”

“But don’t you think—.”

“All I do is think, Darcy.  About what I could have done differently, how I could avoided all of this.  I think about how poorly I handled myself and how easily I let all the same shit get to me.”

“And do you think about how Harry loves you?” she asked quietly.

“Harry doesn’t love me, Darcy.  He just thought he did.  He just said it because he didn’t know what else to say.  What does he know?  He’s just a kid.  He’s 20 years old.”

“You were sure you loved Tom when you were younger than that.”  Her words felt like a punch to my stomach.

“And look how that turned out,” I said bitterly.

“George….”

I sighed heavily.  “Even if it’s true, even if he knew what he said and meant it?  It doesn’t matter now.  What’s done is done.”

****

What’s done is done.  That was something I kept having to reminding myself of.  What’s done was done.  What had happened with Tom was done.  What happened with Colin was done.  What happened in New Orleans, London, any number of cities across Europe and back again.  All of that was done.  

And Harry.  What happened with Harry was done, too, and every time I thought about it, it killed me a little.  I missed him in a way I hadn’t missed someone in a long time.  I had gained perspective, being away, and I saw it in a different light.  It seemed like a lot of back and forth, a lot of trouble for nothing, but it hadn’t been all that bad at all.  It had been lovely, actually, and if I had just seen that, maybe things would be different.

I hoped, everyday, that that day would be the day that I’d have a message from Harry, or a missed call, or an email.  Something, anything to let me know that maybe he didn’t hate me or worse, didn’t care at all.  

It didn’t come.  

****

“Most of you have tattoos, right?”  The interviewer on the television asked.  “Can you each tell me your favorites?  If you had to only pick one?”  They all looked at each other, as if they were tired of hearing this question and explaining themselves.  

“Okay, okay,” she said, smiling at them.  “How about you, Harry?”

“Well, I quite like them all, otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten them.  Mostly.”

“But, if you had to pick a favorite, what would it be?”

“Well, this one, then,” he said as he pulled his collar to the side.

“What does it say?”

“Our little secret….”  

“And is that for someone special?”

He grinned a charming grin, and let his collar go.  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret would it?”

****

“Hello?”

“Georgia, it’s Louis.  I’ve got to run, but we’ll be in New York, and I’d love to have dinner.”

“Louis, hi!  Dinner would be lovely….”

“Great, I’ll have my people call to arrange it.  You know, keep it all above-board, no misunderstandings,” he said with a laugh.  “I’ll see you soon.”

***

It was chilly for September and it was raining as I got out of the car at the restaurant Louis had chosen.  As I stepped into the room, I spotted Louis across the room and he waved me over, standing to kiss me as I approached.  

“Louis, it is so good to see you,” I said as I sat down.  

“You too, Georgia.  You look well.”

“Thanks Louis.  So, what brings you to New York?”

“We’re doing a bit of promo for the new tour.”

“God, another tour?  Don’t you guys ever get a break?”  

He laughed good naturedly.  “Can’t slip out of sight for long. And I guess they want their money’s worth before our contract is up.”

“Sounds about right.”  

He let his eyes linger on my glass of wine as I brought it to my mouth.

“Don’t worry,” I told him.

“I’m not—”

“It’s okay, I don’t blame you, but you don’t need to worry.”

“I won’t then.”

“So, Louis,” I started, and he looked at me expectantly.  “I, um, never thanked you properly for everything you did for me—how good you were to me.”

“Oh, it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, Louis.  It meant—it means—a lot to me.  Things took a horrible turn and I was really out of line.  On more than one occasion.  It got the best of me, and I’m really sorry that you were ever dragged into it.”

“Really, Georgia, it’s fine.  I know you’ve had a rough go of things.  I know that the tour was hard on you.  I didn’t really know, none of us did, what to expect or where things would go, and I think we learned a valuable lesson.”

“Yeah.  Watching me spiral out of control.”

“No, not that.  I mean, I think that having you around helped us.  Protected us from some things that we wouldn’t have known how to handle.”

“Well, I’m glad something good came of it.”  I couldn’t help the sarcasm in my voice.

“Don’t do that, darling.  I am glad that you were there.  I’m sorry that things took an unfortunate turn for you, and I really wish you had been able to stay.  We all do.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I said quietly.

“It’s true, even Harry.”  

“Harry…god, I fucked that up, didn’t I?  Are you two…are you two okay?”

“Me and Harry?  We’re great.  I mean, things got a little weird for a bit, but yeah, we’re fine.  Patched up and all that—months ago, now.”

“Good.  It killed me that day he came into the dressing room like that.”

“He was just upset.  He never believed any of it.  He was angry.  Lashing out, you know.”

“Is he….  I mean, it’s none of my business, but is he happy?”

“I think, yes, for the most part, he is happy.”

“Good.”  And it _was_ good, but it hurt, too.

“He misses you, Georgia.”  That felt like a gut punch.

“Misses me?  I doubt that.  I did nothing but hurt him.”

“I think it was a two way street.”

“I should have known better, though.”

“The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Always so romantic, Louis.”  

“He loves you, you know?”  

I guess he was just going to lay it all out, and I took a long swallow of my wine, gauging how I felt about what Louis was telling me, what it meant—if it meant anything at all.  “Maybe he thought he did, once.”

“You know, in all these months, he’s not been with another girl.  Nothing even remotely romantic.”

“I hardly believe that one.  He could have any girl he wants.”

“Any girl he wants, sure.  Except for one.  Except for you.” I tried to stop him, but he went on.  “Let me just say some things?  I can see that you are in a better spot.  Maybe, away from all the drama, away from the work, away from everything else, you can hear what I’m saying to you.  Harry _is_ happy.  But he is lonely.  He misses you.  He really misses you.  For weeks after you left he was a mess.  He showed up for the things he needed to show up for, he sang his heart out when he needed to.  He said and did all the right things, the things he was supposed to do.  But behind closed doors he was miserable.”

“But…”

“But, what?  Look, the way I see it, and the way he now understands and sees it, you did what you had to do.  He knew that you had to go, and he knew that he had to let you go.  But he hasn’t forgotten about you.  He loves you Georgia.”

“He doesn’t….”

“He does.  I’m not saying that you need to do anything with that information.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t, either.  I’m saying that maybe, with a little of space comes a little bit of clarity.  I’m saying that when Harry does anything, it is with you in mind, whether he knows it or not.”

“God, Louis.  I don’t really know what to do with all of this.”

“I don’t really know either.  I didn’t even really intend to say these things to you, but, you know, maybe you can come around a bit, have a chat with him.  Be honest with him?  I know you had your reasons, but you took control of this whole situation in the end and he never got any sort of say in things.  He at least deserves some closure, don’t you think?”

“I kinda thought that I had provided plenty of closure, treating him the way I did.”

“I know you think of us as kids, and by all rights we are.  But the thing about Harry is that he is sensitive, and he feels horrible for hurting you, for dragging you into a mess you had to fight your way out of.  He didn’t understand what would happen.”

“I didn’t either.  Look.  I need you to know that I am sorry for everything.”

“I’m not the one who needs to hear that, Georgia. Harry is.”

“Does he know you came to see me tonight?”

“No.  This wasn't some sort of set up!” He said, laughing.  “Not that I’m keeping it from him, but we are currently in two different time zones, and I haven’t talked to him today. Georgia, I really did not come here with the intent of saying these things.  I don’t have any expectations regarding what you do or don’t do with the information.  I just think you need to know the truth.  And I think Harry deserves it too.”

“Okay, Louis.  Okay.  I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do with that information.  I feel like nothing good can come of it.  I’m not sure…I’m just not sure of anything.”

“Just think on it.  We’re playing a small show tomorrow.  He’ll be in town.  Come if you want.  I know everyone would be happy to see you.”

As I walked back to my apartment, Louis words stuck in my head, I felt confused.  Confused about what had happened, confused about what I should do.  It killed me to think that I was hurting Harry by staying away, but I was afraid that it would kill him, or me, if I didn’t.  I was admittedly in a much better place than I had been a few short months ago, but I still didn’t trust myself.  How could I?  

My life had been on constant repeat since I was nineteen and I didn’t know how to break the cycle.

*****

“I think this is a bad idea.  No.  I _know_ it's a bad idea,” I said to Darcy as I was pulling on my boots.  

“You aren’t psychic, George.  You can’t know this is a bad idea.  What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I have some ideas.”

“Seems to me the worst already has happened.  No where to go but up!”

“Since when did you become such an optimist?”  

“All I’m saying is that you need to just stop being so afraid and just see what happens.”  

“Fine.  We’ll see what happens.”  I had decided to just go to the show that Louis had mentioned.  I had gotten several texts from the other guys, wanting to see me, asking me to come.  Not including Harry, of course.  When I had mentioned it to Darcy, she insisted that we go.

When we arrived, they had already started playing.  My heart leapt at the sound of Harry singing on stage.  I stopped abruptly and turned to go, but Darcy forced me forward.  

Magda caught my eye and embraced me warmly.  “Louis said you might come.  It’s so good to see you, Georgia.”  I didn’t trust myself to say anything.  “I want to get together with you before we leave town to talk about some things.”  I just nodded.  

“God, but he’s lovely,” Darcy said in my ear as she stared at Harry.  “Does he have an older brother?”  I couldn’t help but laugh.  “Just relax, Georgia.  It’s about time you had a little fun.  You’ve been a stick in the mud every since you came back from London.”

The boys rushed off stage, heading straight for our table, though I noticed that Harry walked at a slower pace.  

“Georgia!” They said, each hugging me as they approached.  

“Georgia, love,” Harry said last, as he hugged me.  His hand lingered on my back just a little too long, his touch a little too firm, before he let me go abruptly, as if realizing that it was out of place.  “It’s good to see you.  You look good.”

“You too, Harry.  It’s good to see you, too,” I said softly and smiled at him.  Even after all of this, he still looked at me as if I was the only person in the room.  As everyone around us talked excitedly, Harry was quiet, thoughtful.  I could feel him looking at me, but I avoided his gaze, afraid that if I met it, all the walls would come crashing down around me.  

“Georgia?  What do you think?”  I heard Magda calling my name and realized everyone was looking at me.

“I’m sorry?”  I could see Harry grin at me in my peripheral vision.  

“We want you to do some work for us.”  I saw a table full of people staring at me expectantly.

“Work for you?”  I couldn’t get my thoughts together with Harry staring at me.  What was wrong with me?  “Magda.  I’m not sure that’s—”  She laughed good naturedly.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll talk privately tomorrow.  I’ll come to your office.  Then we can talk properly, without an over-eager audience.”

“Okay.  Sure.  Um.  Speaking of the office, I should get going,” I stood to leave.  “I’ll see you guys around.”  I said my goodbyes and Darcy and I walked to the door, when I felt someone grab my hand.  He dropped it almost as quickly as he grabbed it.

“Georgia, can I—Darcy, can we have a minute?”  Harry said.  She smiled and walked on before I could stop her.  I looked at Harry, meeting his green eyes before looking away quickly.  My eyes landed on his lips instead.  Which was not a better option, I thought as I groaned inwardly.  God, those lips.  When he bit his lip as if unsure what to do next, I almost died.  I looked up into his eyes again.  And immediately wished I hadn’t.  I didn’t trust myself to speak so I just waited for what seemed like an eternity.  

He was standing too close to me, so close I could feel the heat from his body, smell the familiar smell of him.   _Please Harry_ , I thought, _please just say something_.  “Georgia, I was wondering,” he hesitated, uncharacteristically nervous.  “Right.  I was wondering if I could…call you?  Maybe talk a bit?”

“Sure Harry.  You can always call me.”  Why’d I say that?  “You know how to reach me.”  God I was an idiot.  

“Great,” he said, leaning down and brushing his lips against my cheek.  “I’ll talk to you soon, then.”  He flashed me his trademark smile and turned back to his friends.  The moment he walked away I felt a huge void.  As if a piece of me had been missing all along, and suddenly, that piece was back and I felt whole, before it was ripped away again.

******

“Hi Magda, have a seat.  I just have to finish this email.”  As I pressed send, I turned to face Magda, nervously anticipating what she had to say.

“So….” I prompted.

“We want you back.”

“Cut right to the chase, why don’t you?”  She laughed.

“We’ve missed you.  We want you to come back and work for us.”

“Since it turned out so well last time?”

“Regardless of the other stuff, which, I think, was just a perfect storm of events, you did a wonderful job.  The lads trust you.  They like your style, your choices for them.”

“Well, thank you, that’s very flattering…”

“Look, Georgia, let’s just lay it all out there, okay?”

“Uh, sure.”

“I know that you had a hard time.  I know that Colin was a bad choice, a bad fit, in every way imaginable.  I didn’t have much control over it, really, but I regret that I wasn’t more forceful in getting him removed from the organization.  I don’t know that it would have been any use, but he really caused a great deal of problems.  And for that, I am sorry.”

“Thanks, Magda, but really, that was the least of it.”

“The least of it?  The bigger issue being what, then?”

“Me?  Harry?”

“You and Harry?  That’s hardly an issue.”

“I don’t know….”

“Look.  I am not going to tell you what to do, or how to behave.  I think it’s obvious that it is more important to live the truth than to try and fabricate one.  The more we tried to manufacture things, the worse things got.  I know that you have your own issues, but I think you are stronger than your past.  I know you’ve lived things that no one should have to live, and I know you were young when it all happened.  But thirty is hardly washed up.  You deserve to start over and have a new life.”

“I lost control, though, Magda, and that wasn’t okay.”

“Jesus, I’m here telling you that it is all in the past.  We all mess up, Georgia.  But even when you messed up the job got done.  That’s really all I need to know.  Let’s move on from this shall we?  What I’m here for, is to ask you to come back.”

“I don’t know.  Come back in what capacity?  I don’t know if I can handle another tour.  I’d have to feel things out a bit.”

“That’s fine.  We’re shooting a video in LA next next month.  Let’s try that for starters.  Then we’ll talk about what’s next.”

“And how does everyone feel...you know?”

“They all want you to come back, Georgia, I told you that already.  Even Harry.”

******

“Love, it’s Harry.  Sorry to have missed you.  I wanted to—well, it was good to see you last night.  I’m about to hop on the plane to LA, but I was wondering—had you given Magda’s proposition some thought?  I’d love…well, it’d be great to have you back.  Working with us I mean.  Anyway, I’ve got to run.”

******

“I don’t know, Darcy.”

“What’s one week, Georgia?  Really.  Just go to LA, do the video shoot.  Relax.”

*****

“Magda?  It’s Georgia.  Send me the info.  I’ll come to LA.”


	17. LA

“Well, what have you got for us?”

“I’ve got the swim suits over here,” I said, indicating a rack of boardshorts and bikinis that I had pulled for the video shoot.  “Those will be for today.  You all can pick whichever ones you like that fit.  Just pick the ones you like and try them on.”

“I quite like this one,” Niall said, reappearing in a barely there bikini.  I laughed out loud—it felt good to be back and to be having some fun.

“I don’t think that’s the feel we’re going for, honey,” I told him, “Though, somehow, it suits you.  But sorry, try again.”  He grabbed a pair of shorts of the rack and disappeared again, laughing at himself as the others teased him.  As he disappeared, Harry stepped out from behind the screen.  A felt a flutter in my stomach as I watched him walk into the room, the shorts riding low on his hips, displaying his hard smooth stomach, his muscles forming into a v that disappeared below the waistband.  He ran his hand through his hair as he glanced in the mirror.

“Do you reckon they’re too big?  They seem a bit long.”  

“What?”  Any faint hope I had that my attraction to him would have disappeared over the last months was lost as he turned and grinned at me.

“The shorts, do they fit?”

“Oh.  Yeah.  They fit fine.  If you feel comfortable in them, I think they’ll be fine,” I said, trying to sound calm but knowing my words came out a bit too fast.  “So, if everyone is satisfied, I need you to grab some clothes for the bonfire scene.”

“This just gets more cliche as it goes on,” Louis said, rolling his eyes.  “Rolling around in the surf with girls in bikinis?  A party around a big fire on the beach?”

“I don’t come up with this stuff, Louis.  I just dress you for it.”

*****

“Ok, that’s a wrap.”  

The sun had gone down long ago, and the director had all the shots he needed.  It had been a long day and everyone was exhausted as they relaxed around the fire.  

“Hey,” Harry said to me as he sat down next to me, his arm barely touching mine.  “I’m glad that’s done with.”

“Yes, it must be tough having to cavort around the beach with hot girls in bikinis,” I said lightly.

“Ah, you know.  Comes with the territory, I suppose.”  

We lapsed into silence, watching and listening to what was going on around us.  

“This is all quite boring,” he said in my ear.  I just smiled.  He put his hand on top of mine resting on my knee and I pulled my hand away.  I instantly regretted it, but if he thought anything of it he didn’t indicate it. “Too hot for a fire.  Fancy a walk?”  He stood up, holding out his hand, so sure that I’d accept the invitation.  

“Um, sure,” I said, placing my hand in his as he pulled me up.  We walked away from the fire, and I realized my hand was still in his.  I let it drop, and tucked my hands into my pockets.  

“It’s really great to have you back,” he said as the sound of the crowd drifted away.  The crash of the waves drowning out everything but him.  I glanced at him, as he looked out at the ocean, the moonlight catching in his hair, and I wished that this awkwardness didn’t exist between us.  We had been so easy together for so long, and I missed it more than I missed anything else about him.  

We stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, when suddenly, he turned and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, pressing our bodies together.  I stiffened, but as he held onto me, his head dropped on my shoulder and I let myself relax.  I let myself wrap my arms around him, and it just felt so good, even though my head was screaming at me to stop this.   I allowed myself a few moments of his attention and then I gently pulled away.  He looked down at me then, and I met his green eyes as he tucked my hair behind my hear, his hand lingering there longer than it should.

“God, but I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.  I could feel a lump forming in my throat, the tears burning behind my eyes.  

“Harry, don’t,” I said, turning away from him.  I could feel him standing beside me, watching me, deciding what to do.  

“You know what, Georgia?”  The sweetness from a few minutes ago was gone, and there was anger in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.  I don’t know if he could even hear me over the waves.  I was a coward, and I didn’t want to fight or to explain or to hear about his hurt.  I started to walk away.  

“Don’t walk away from me.”  

I stopped.  

“Look at me.”  

I did.  

I looked at him, wordlessly, and waited for him to speak.  The tears were threatening, and I could feel my heart speed up and my stomach twist in that way it does when you don’t want to hear unpleasant things.  I felt even more vulnerable on the beach, bare feet in the sand, the stars watching every move we made.  

He took a step forward, stopped, ran his hands through his hair.  “I’m not going to let you walk away from me like this again.”

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“You know damn fucking well what I want, Georgia.  I know things ended badly last time.  I know that I was horrible, and childish.  But I was angry, and you can’t fault me for that.  The things you said to me?  The way you shut me out, and then abandoned me?  That wasn’t ok.  I thought it would kill me, it hurt so bad.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry?  That’s all you have to say about that?”  I shrugged at him, afraid to say anything else, knowing that I would end up baring my entire soul to him, which was just not something I wanted to do now, in this place, at this point.  “I don’t want apologies from you.  I just need to know that you understand that the things that went on between you and me?  That was real.  It wasn’t a game.  It wasn’t lies.  I wasn’t fooling around.”

“I know, Harry.  I do.”  I wanted to put an end to his confessional.  I wanted to stop it before it went to a place there would be no returning from.  

“I know what you’re thinking, Georgia.  I know you want me to shut up.  I know you want to just put a nail in the coffin, have a funeral, and pretend like this was just another fucked up story of your life.  But I’m not going to let you do that again.  If you aren’t ready to talk about this, then say it.  It isn’t what I want to hear, but I’ll accept it for now.  Maybe this isn’t the time or the place, maybe it is too soon. Maybe—I don’t even know.  But I want you to hear this, now, so that you can’t pretend it isn’t real or hide from it.”  He reached down and held my face, tilting it up to his, his thumbs wiping the tears as they sprang from my eyes.  

“Georgia.  I love you. I am in love with you.”  I tried to shake my head, but his hands were holding it in place.  Forcing me to face him.  I could see the emotion glistening in his eyes.  “Do you understand?  That this is real for me?”

“You don’t—”

“No.  I do.  You don’t get to hide from this.  You can take it or leave it, but you can’t hide.  Do you get it?  This. Is.  Real,” he said to me, emphasizing each word.  “Tell me you understand.  At least give me that.”

“Yes,” I managed to say softly.  “Yes. I just can’t….”  He pressed his forehead to mine, then wrapped his arms around me, holding me as I cried against him.  

“I needed you to know.  But don’t say you can’t…can’t love me, because I know that isn’t true.”

He pulled his head back, searching my face.  He kissed me softly, and I let him.  

“There’s just too much, Harry.  It’s not a good idea, and there are things you need to know about me, and my life, things I need to be honest about before….  But I can’t do that now, here.  I’m just not ready.  We can’t just run off into the sunset as if nothing ever happened.”  He let me go and looked at me.  

“You don’t need to protect me, Georgia.  Why can’t you just trust me?”

“I do trust you Harry.  But you need to know the truth.”

“I know all I need to know, Georgia.”

“You don’t.”

“Then tell me.”

He was persistent, and lovely and perfect, and all I wanted was to wish away all of the bad things that had happened so that I didn’t have to remember them or own up to them, but I knew doing that would only lead us right back to where we had left things in London.

“How do you not hate me?”

He sat down in the sand and stretched his legs out.  “I don’t know.  Sometimes I wish I did.”

His honesty stabbed me in the heart.  

“Will you sit?” He asked me.  

“Ok.”

We sat still looking over the ocean.  I could hear the laughter and the loud voices of our friends and coworkers behind us, and I wondered if they were missing us, wondering what we were doing, what we looked like, the two of us sitting there on that beach together but not quite.  I looked over at him, and watched his profile as he looked down and traced circles in the sand with his finger.  

“When I said that I though that you leaving would kill me, I meant it.  I felt so alone.  And this has been the most confusing time of my life.  All of those things that happened in London, none of it made sense to me.”  He pauses, his finger stills.  He looks over at me, wanting to hold me accountable, to make sure I’m listening, to understand him.  

I wish I could explain the way I felt at that moment.  Afraid, frozen.  I could feel every muscle tensing; I was ready to jump up and run.  The swirling water called to me.  If I could only jump into those waves and disappear, I thought.  To have to listen to someone you care about so much tell you all of the things you’ve done to cause them pain is a hard thing to bear.  

“Those last couple of weeks in London?  I would have given away all of this, everything I have, to have never experienced that.  I don’t know why you said those things to me Georgia.  I can only guess.  I wanted to hate you for them.  I wanted a reason to hate you so that I could be angry at you and blame you and wish I had never met you.  When I came back the next day…did you know I came back?”

“Yes,” I said.  

He nodded and looked back at the sand.  “Well.  I was out of my mind.  I didn’t understand any of it.  I was so upset.  I came back because I wanted to talk to you.  I wanted you to explain.  I wanted you to forgive me.”

“Harry,” I say, reaching out my hand and resting it on his arm.  “You hadn’t done anything wrong.  There was nothing for me to forgive.”

“It didn’t feel that way, though.  Do you remember what you said to me?”

“I do,” I said, my voice shaking.  “I’m so sorry.”

“It came out of nowhere.  Or, it felt that way.  I see now, with some time, some perspective, that it had probably been building.”

“Yes.”

“God, I wanted to hate you.  I wanted a reason.  It didn’t make sense to me then.  It’s why I got so mad when those stories about you and Lou came up.  I knew it was ridiculous, but I wanted to believe it so that I’d have my reason, and I’d be able to hate you.  But, even as I stormed in there I knew I was a fool.”

“You aren’t a fool.”

“I am, though, aren’t I?  I showed up at your apartment that night before you left, didn’t I?  Like a fool.  I know what I said, but I thought that you’d stay.  I know you said you wouldn’t.  I remember everything you said that night, everything we did.  In the morning, I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“I knew that you loved me.”

He looked at me and I couldn’t say anything.

“I knew that you loved me,” he said.  He let out a little laugh, and he shook his head.  “And I thought, because you loved me, that you wouldn’t leave.  I woke up and you were still there, and I thought for a minute that things were ok, they were fixed, and that you wouldn’t leave me.”  He pulled his lip between his teeth, his eyes wet, shining in the moonlight.  “But then I realized.  I could feel it crushing me.  You were still…so, so still.  Afraid to move, even, and I knew you really were leaving.  And I wanted to hate you,” he said, his knee bouncing nervously now.  “But I couldn’t hate you, because I knew you loved me.”

I looked straight ahead, not caring that my face was wet.  I could feel him go still beside me, knew he was waiting for some sort of response from me.

“Georgia?”  It was a plea, for an answer, a conversation, and explanation.  For my acknowledgement, for my love.  But I wanted to be careful about my words, careful that any pain I inflicted was necessary, or any hope that I offered was valid.  

“Ok,” I said, taking a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start and what to say.  “God, I didn’t want to do this tonight,” I said.  I didn’t want to do this tonight or anything other night, for that matter.

“Please.”

“I had to leave, Harry.  Things were really bad for me.  You don’t know the half of it.”

“So tell me.”

“It’s so complicated.  In the beginning…I never intended that you and I be anything other than friends.  That first night we spent together?  I thought it was a mistake, a lapse in judgement.”  I saw him frown.  “It isn’t anything against you, you have to understand that.  You were nothing but wonderful, but you were 19, and I am 30 and a mother.  But obviously, I just couldn’t stay away from you.  I felt really guilty about it Harry, for so many reasons.  But I wanted you to have fun, to enjoy being young.  And I knew that I was toxic and I didn’t want hurt you.  Which obviously backfired.  And then I thought you would get bored of me, so I played along because it felt good; I thought we were just having fun, but you never got bored of me, and that scared me.”

I looked at him and he was shaking his head slowly.

“I understand that it doesn’t make sense to you, but I…have been through things, and they have made me how I am, and it is something I have to fight with every day.  Being on tour, so out of my normal routine was something I just couldn’t handle.  When I got to London and saw that Colin had been hired, I should have turned around and left, but I didn’t.  Europe started out all wrong.  I know I kept pushing you away and pulling you back, and for that I will forever be sorry, but I just didn’t understand and I didn’t believe you knew what you were talking about.”

“But I did.”

“I know that now.  I couldn’t see it.  I don’t know how to make you understand, but it wasn’t about you.  It was me.  It was all me.”  I paused, gathering my thoughts, hoping this wouldn’t go as horribly as I feared.  I took a deep breath and then continued, hoping I could maintain a steady voice.  ”Colin came after me in Spain.  Remember that bruise on my wrist?”  I could feel his body tense next to me.  “I’m not telling you this to make you angry or because I want him to be punished.  I want you to understand.  He lied to you about me, and he lied to me about you.  He manipulated us.  And he planted his little spies, and he pushed pills into my pockets, and he took advantages of my weaknesses.”

“I’m going to—”

I took his hand, and held it in mine and I looked at him.  “You aren’t going to do anything.  Please just listen to me.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Those pictures of me and Louis in Spain?”  I watched as he flinched, knowing there was still a question in his mind about what had really happened.  “That was the night Colin came after me.  I drank so much I couldn’t stand, and I would have swallowed a mouthful of pills if Louis hadn’t stopped me.  He saved my life.  That’s all there was to it.”  I paused to gauge his reaction before continuing.  “That night in Ibiza?  It wasn’t the first time.  And it wasn’t the last time.  That night, if you hadn’t come, then…,” I shrugged helplessly.  “And then for a while, everything was ok.  This is all a jumbled mess.  I just….  I didn’t go to rehab,” I blurted.

“What?”

“I didn’t go.  I lied.  I holed up in a hotel room and binged until I couldn’t see straight, and then I sobered up and came back to London.  I felt so much better, and I was so looking forward to seeing you.”

“It didn’t seem that way.”

“I know.  I know it didn’t.  While I was waiting for you, I just started drinking, and I spiraled out of control, and I read this article about Tom, and then I was listening to his music….”

“And it made you that angry at me?  I don’t measure up to him, is that it?”

“God no.  I wasn’t angry at you.  I was angry at everything else, and you just got in the way of that.  It was like I was possessed.  I felt so, so worthless.  So used up and miserable, and all I could focus on was making you hate me.  All I wanted was for you to hate me and to stop loving me and to leave me and to let me go.  I wanted to die, Harry.  I really wanted to die, and you being there, you were in the way of that.”

“Jesus,” he said, looking at me.  “I didn’t realize,” he added.  “How did I not realize?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice in getting by, and you loved me and trusted me, and I abused that.”

“But I should have seen.”

“Don’t.  Don’t put that blame on yourself.  You seeing the good in me helped me out of it in the end.  I’m sorry.  It’s all so fucked up and there is so much more to explain.”  I wanted him to touch me, to look at me, to make it better.  “I will apologize to you until the end of forever if you would just forgive me,” I said weakly.

“I already have, Georgia,” he said, turning now to face me.  He brushed my windblown hair away from my face, and then pressed his hand to my damp cheek.  “I have already forgiven you for all of it.”

“There’s more,” I warned him.  

“Do I want to hear it?”

“Probably not.  No.”

“Do I need to hear it?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you forgive me, Georgia?” He asked me.

“Of course I do.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

He pulled me to him, wrapped his arms around me, smoothed my hair, kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, my lips.  

“Do you love me, Georgia?”

“Yes,” I murmured against his lips.  I could feel his body relax, the sigh of relief escaping.  I could feel his smile against my mouth.

“Then that’s all I need to know.”

“But--,”

“But nothing.  Whatever it is, it can wait.”

It could wait for the moment, but not forever.

“Will you come back to the hotel with me?”

“Harry.”

“Please.  I’ve been waiting for all this time to see you, to touch you.  I miss you.  I need you.  I love you.”

And with those three facts whispered against my ear, as the waves tumbled onto the shore, my head crashed into my heart, and any resolved I had was buried in the sand.

We rode silently back to the hotel.  I looked out of the window, warring with myself.  Knowing that I was doing the wrong thing, once again, but afraid to turn him away.  I reasoned with myself that he knew there were things that remained unsaid, unseen, hidden away in the darkness, like a monster under the bed, but he didn’t seem to care.  Or if he did care, he was willing to ignore it all.  His hope and his innocence were the deciding factors in his world.  And tonight, I had decided to follow his path, though I wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring.  

He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the car and into the hotel, through the lobby, to the elevator and down the hall, holding on tightly as if he was afraid I would vanish, would run away from him.  I could feel the nervous tension coursing through him as he held onto my hand propelling me forward before the moment disappeared.  As he ushered me into the room and shut the door, he let go of my hand, almost forcefully, as if to say that he had caught me, as if I had no where to run and he finally felt confident he could release his hold on me.  

The room was lit only by the lights of the city flickering through the large windows on the other side of the room.  We both stood there, frozen, every nerve ending on alert.  And then he was on me, pressing into me, kissing me, rocking his hips into mine.  His hands slipping under my shirt, every touch of his fingers reminding me how much I missed him, needed him, loved him.  

He lifted me of my feet and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to the bed.  “Don’t leave me, Georgia,” he whispered as he laid me down and climbed on top of me, his weight giving me a comfort I had missed.  “I can’t bear it if you leave me again.”

****

“Harry, wake up.”  My first instinct had been to leave before he woke up, to be gone before he could stop me.  I knew, though, that if I left without saying goodbye, if I just snuck out without explanation, things would be beyond repair.  I had already been awake for an hour, just watching him, going through all the possibilities in my head of where this could go, what I should do, and I hadn’t come up with much of a plan.  My plan, so far, was to just wing it without being an asshole, without running.

“Hmmm,” he groaned sleepily as he draped his arm around me and nuzzled into my neck.  “You’re still here.”  

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you decided to stay.”

“Me too.  But, I have to go.  I have a plane to catch.”

“Running away again, then?” He said it playfully, but I could hear the truth, see the hurt in his eyes.

“No, Harry, I’m not running away.  If I was going to run away I would have done it an hour ago.  I really do have to go.”

“When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I mean, I don’t know your schedule, or mine, really.  But, before….”

“Before what?”

“We need to have a real talk, Harry.  We can’t just make up and fall into bed with each other.  There are some things to sort out.”

“So serious,” he said, pulling me back to him.  

“It is serious.”  I kissed him.  “I’ve got to go.  I’ll be in London next week.”

“I love you,” he said to me.

“I love you, too,” I said to him.

I shut the door behind me, not regretting the previous night, but worried what would happen next.  

****

“How was LA?”  Darcy asked me when I climbed into her car at the airport.  I felt myself flush, knew my cheeks were turning red, hoping that she wouldn’t notice, knowing that she would.  “Blushing?  What have you got up to?  What did you do out there?  Or should I say, who?”  She teased.

“Stop that!”  I swatted at her.

“Stop what?”  She replied, innocently.  “How’s Harry, then?”

“He’s fine.”  I tried to look busy, hoping she’d leave me be.  She didn’t.  She looked at me expectantly.  “Ok.  He’s good.  We’re good.  For now, I guess.”

“That sounds rather ominous.”

“Ugh.  I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“I feel like he needs to know the truth.  All of it.”

“So, tell him.”

“He isn’t going to like it.”

“Shouldn’t you let him decide that for himself?”

“I want to.  Like, I know it needs to happen, but I don’t want him to….”

“To what?”

“Hate me.”


	18. London

“When do you get in?”

“I’ll be in tomorrow, early afternoon.”

“I”ll send a car to pick you up.”

“There’s already a car coming.  I have to go straight to the office.”

“That’s no fun,” Harry pouted.

“I’m not coming over for a vacation.  You know that.”

“Then we’ll have dinner after you’re done.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I thought we were done with this secretive stuff,” he said.  We had talked on the phone every day since LA.  We had decided that instead of hiding we would behave normally, attempt a somewhat normal relationship.  I had my reservations, but it didn’t seem like there was any other way if we wanted to be together.

“We will be,” I told him.  “But there are some things we need to talk about first.”

“Right, right.  Fine.  Then come to my place when you’re done?  We can order in.  Or skip the food altogether.”

I laughed.  “Ok, Harry.  I”ll see you tomorrow night.”

 ****

I was a nervous mess of emotions.  I was going to London to sign a contract to work with the band over the next year.  I had tried to work my way out of it, but no one was taking no for an answer.  My boss in New York essentially told me that if I didn’t take it he would fire me; Magda assured me that we would have no Colin Hawthorne type issues again; and besides, I wouldn’t be going on tour again unless I wanted to.  I figured that no matter how things went this time, at least I wouldn’t be trapped in confining busses and endless foreign cities.  At least this way, when things went bad, which I was sure they would because they always did, I wouldn’t have to stare at my problems head on every damn moment of my life.  

Things between Harry and I were in a good place, but I still felt the burden of all the things left to tell. I knew that before we made this silly (and regardless of how much either of us wanted it, it was silly—if not outright foolish) choice to be open about our relationship, I had to come clean.  One hundred percent.  If I was going to be dating one of the biggest pop stars in the history of pop stars, there would be someone who would dig up my dirt.  There would be someone who would find someone that I barely remembered who would tell stories about me, true or not.  I wanted Harry to know the real story in all of it’s ugliness so that I wouldn’t need to spend the rest of forever trying to defend myself against the bullshit that would inevitably come.

****

I felt sick as the car approached Harry’s neighborhood.  

I itched for a drink to take the edge off as we turned onto his street.

My breaths were coming short and quick and I felt like I wanted to jump out of my skin as the car pulled into his driveway.  

I was practically shaking when the car came to stop outside of his door.

How sweet it would have been for this to be an easy, happy reunion.  I cursed myself for being such a weak fool for all of the stupid shit I had done that led me to this place, to this conversation.

The driver held an umbrella and waited patiently for me to decide to get out of the car, which I finally did.  My arrival seemed too formal, somehow, and I felt awkward as Harry opened the door and ushered me into his house.  

“Welcome to my home.” he said cheekily, embracing me.  “I’ve missed you.”  

I leaned into him, breathing in the scent of his skin.  I held to him tightly, not wanting to let go.  

“It’s nice that things have died down a bit—that I can actually walk into my own house without a million cameras going off.”  He pulled away and bent down to kiss me, and it made my heart flutter and my stomach drop.  Hooking his fingers in my belt loops, pressing into me, I thought that maybe I could just go with it, ignore the things I meant to say to him.  

“Harry,” I breathed against his mouth, wishing we could just stay like this forever.  But I found myself pushing away from him.  “Can we talk?”

“Right this minute?  Can’t we have dinner first at least,” he asked as he made his way to the sofa.  

“I think it’s best if we just get to it,” I told him.  I needed to before I lost my nerve and started this whole cycle over again.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he said with a laugh.  “It can’t be all that bad.  We’ve already been through the worst of it, haven’t we, love?”  

“I wish,” I said.  He held his hand out to me, but instead of joining him on the sofa, I sat opposite him in a chair.  He watched me and let his hand drop dejectedly.  

“Well, this seems a bit more serious than I expected,” he said while I wondered absently who had picked the furniture.  

“I just feel like you need to know me.”

“I do know you, Georgia.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know that you need to know before we take this any further.”

“Ok…”  

I could tell he was starting to get anxious about the formality this meeting of ours had suddenly taken.  “If this is going to turn into anything more, if you still want this, if you still want me?”

"You know I do, Georgia," he said seriously.

“Then you have to hear these things from me before you hear them from someone else.  They will dig it up, and I don’t want to have to defend myself to you every time something is written about me, every time some long lost friend is quoted in some magazine, every time our relationship is called into question.  So I am going to tell you the truth and it will be an awful truth, but if nothing else, you will know it and you can at least trust that I was honest with you.”  

His face was grim as I said those words.  “OK.  Get on with it then.  I understand.”  

I had rehearsed what I would say to him a thousand times in the last week.  I knew the worst things I wanted to tell him, and the best, but as I started to speak, my script was forgotten and the words started to tumble out.

“I met Tom when I was seventeen.  I had snuck out to go to a club with some friends, and ended up at a seedy bar mingling with the band after their set.  From the moment he spoke to me, I was sure that I wanted to be with him forever.”  I paused, thinking of that night, how I thought the whole world was at my feet, and how ready I was to jump into Tom’s world without a thought.  How easily I had loved him.  

“From that day on, I saw him every chance I got.  I went to all of his shows, I snuck out to spend the night with him.  I skipped school to go to out of town shows with him.  He was my everything.  I was happy and the world seemed so open to me; everything seemed possible with Tom. The week I turned 18, we eloped.

“It was a dumb thing to do, but we were happy, albeit poor.  At that point, we were still just travelling around to different towns, playing in church basements and tiny bars.  The usual.  They always had a following, but the numbers started growing and after a few years of sporadic success, something shifted and before we knew it there was a record deal, a new album and a tour.  We were so happy and things were so exciting, and so much fun.  We were travelling to all of these new places, meeting new people.  It was great, and we were on top of the world.  The first couple of years weren’t easy, but we were happy, and thought that we had hit the jackpot.

“Then, things started to shift.  Slowly at first, and then all at once.  As the band’s popularity grew, and in turn, Tom’s popularity grew, my presence became an ‘issue’ for them.  It didn’t fit, they said.  He was supposed to be a bad boy rocker, not a family man.  It sucked, but we were under contract, so we went along with it because we were young and stupid and thought we had to.  They basically hid me.  They didn’t lie about me existing, they just wanted me out of sight.  So I sat at home, alone in our apartment at 22 while my husband travelled for weeks at a time.  When he was home, there was no time, no privacy.  When he wasn’t home, I would sit and read the magazines and watch tv, crying over images of my husband with girls hanging all over him, my husband out at parties and clubs and events looking happy.  Without me.  It killed me.  Our phone calls were filled with fighting and crying and broken promises and regrets.  We had always been happy before—fighting wasn’t something we did.  But then it was the only thing we did.  I finally packed a bag and went home to my mother, certain that I would die of a broken heart if I put myself through any more of it.

“Tom begged me to come back, though, and apologized…promised that he’d be better.  He insisted that we’d change things, that I would go with him everywhere, and so I went back.  I thought if I was there, I could stop it, if I was keeping a watchful eye on things, then maybe he would stay faithful to me, you know?  We made promises and we made changes, and for a while things were better.  We were too young and stubborn, I guess, and we really wanted it to work.”

“And it did.” Harry said.  It wasn’t a question.  He was stating it as a fact, as if he knew.  Damn his hope.

“No.  It didn’t work, it just got worse.  We went through this cycle for years.  Things were horrible, then they were ok, then they were good, and then we’d go right back to horrible again.  We’d come off a tour, fucked up, exhausted and angry, and then sober up, make the same promises, make the same changes, and we’d swear that things would be easier this time, happier.  For a while, we meant it, I think.  But there’s only so much promising you can do, right?  After a while, the broken promises add up, and you lose that faith that things really will be okay.  I tried.  I tried hard, I thought.  I tried to be a good wife, and I tried to be supportive.  I tried to be forgiving, and I tried to ignore what I heard and read.  But things just kept happening, and eventually there was no escaping the truth… there are only so many nights of not coming home you can excuse, only so many tabloid groupie stories that you can laugh at and deny.”

“Tom wouldn’t do that to you,” Harry insisted.

“He did, though.  He was young, the girls were abundant.  The alcohol and the drugs got better and easier to get.  Years were passing, but it was moving too fast.  It was all we could do to keep up.  We were drunk, high, he’d spend the night god knows where and come in the door in the morning smelling like other women.  If I dared to go out with him, he’d mostly ignore me, and on more than one occasion he’d leave me wherever we were, walking right past me with his arm slung around some random girl.”

“What a bastard.  How could he—”

I looked up at him, and he was staring at me, his look confused as if I was speaking a different language.  I tried to imagine what he might be thinking.  I was in the process of shattering the image of a man he loved and idolized.  He had known one version of us very well, but it was always the happy version of us, not the strung out, angry version.  I hated having to do this, but it was the only way.  “It wasn’t just him, Harry.”  

“You didn’t….”

“Why wouldn’t I?  I was lonely. Fucked up as it was, it was normal for us by that point.  I wasn’t going to sit around in a lonely apartment all by myself.  I was being systematically ignored.  I loved him and he hardly noticed me.  He wanted to, I think, but there was too much going on.  We lost sight of each other, and everything else was too intoxicating to give up.  We could have anything we wanted, and we took it.  No matter what we did, the albums sold and the shows were packed, and the checks were coming in.

“Toward the…end, things just got worse.  You’d think that maybe we were older and wiser, but we hadn’t hit that point yet.  We were out of control and we weren’t careful.  Years earlier, Colin had become a fixture of our entourage.   I don’t even know where or when he showed up, or what his purpose was—some mix between manager and groupie.  But he was a driving force in the madness.  If you wanted something, Colin was the person to get it.  He got girls, he got guys, he got drugs.  He did it to be popular, I think, to make people like him.  He wasn’t really the most charming of people, but that didn’t matter as long as he supplied us with whatever we needed.  He was manipulative and greedy—for money, sex, fame.  Even in the thick of it, there were still nights Tom and I would cling to each other and make promises that we would stop this madness, get clean, sober, have a normal life, but we couldn’t do it.  Every time we tried, someone was pulling us back.  Usually it was Colin.   

“As soon as he felt us pulling away, retreating to some sort of normalcy, he’d be there to reel us back in.  I can’t put it all on him, because we were adults, but we couldn’t resist.  We were tired and needed things to keep us awake; we were wide awake and needed things to make us sleep.  We needed more of everything, and I think we were just so numb from all of the shit that we had already been through that we were just wanting to feel something, even if it was artificial.”

I paused, looking at Harry.  He was looking at me, an indiscernible look in his eyes.  I felt sick.  I wasn’t even sure if what I was saying made sense.

“Things got violent and hateful.  Colin was bring more drugs and more girls and more everything, and I don’t know.  It felt like we were trapped in a tornado.  Constantly spinning out of control.  The drugs got harder, and it got harder to say no.  We needed them.  I needed them.  I tried to stop, but there are just things you can’t do on your own.  Which is obvious considering more recent events….but, well.  A beer turned into pot turned into cocaine, turned into whole days I couldn’t remember.  For Tom and I, for all those years, each time we failed at being better, we hated each other a little more.  I blamed him, he blamed me.  We screamed at each other more than we were nice to each other.  I couldn’t control my jealousy—though I think it was well warranted—and he didn’t trust me, which was also warranted.  There were no more whispered promises.  It was done.

“One night I walked in on Tom and some girl and lost it.  It was different, seeing it.  He had stopped being careful, and it was only a matter of time, but I could somehow ignore it if I didn’t actually see it.  There was always some shred of hope, I guess.  So, I attacked them, destroying everything in my sight.  I was drunk and stoned—on what I didn’t even know—and made a huge scene.  The papers had a field day with that.  And then I grabbed the closest guy I could find and took him home.  Home, to our apartment.  Home had always been our safe spot.  Even if everything else was horrible, every other place we went tainted, there was something about our home that remained sacred.  As if we thought that if we preserved some part of us, it would all work out in the end.  It was stupid, really.”  I glanced at Harry, who was now bent over, looking at the floor, his hands gripping his knees, knuckles white with the effort.  

“It was so foolish,” I continued, my voice shaking.  “I can’t even remember half of it, if I’m being honest.  But at that moment, I was sure I had completely ruined everything.  It wasn’t fair for me to put the entire weight of that on myself, but I did.  If I had been…better, more understanding, less jealous, whatever…none of this would have happened, I thought.  The worst part was Tom’s indifference.  It was great when he loved me, and horrible when he hated me, but it was something else entirely when he just seemed to stop caring.  I was numbing myself with whatever I could get my hands on. Tom would come home, ignore me mostly.  We didn’t talk.  Sometimes we’d fuck.  Mostly we just got high out of our minds and I couldn’t even tell you what we did then.   

“I was feeling so hopeless, and so reckless, and I was certain that everything would come to a crashing halt, and I didn’t care all that much, but I knew that I wanted to get my revenge.  On Tom, on myself, on the people around me, who knows.  I didn’t know what I was doing, or why I was doing it.  But I was going to make a point.  I wanted Tom to notice me again, to see me one last time.  I wanted to make an impact.  I wanted to end everything, but I was so fucked up that…. The way he looked at me…he looked through me as if I were someone he didn’t even know.   I didn’t understand any of it anymore.  It had gotten so convoluted, I couldn’t tell who was lying and who was telling the truth.  I didn’t know who to trust or who to be suspicious of.  I see now that he wasn’t even himself anymore.”  

My thoughts were jumbled.  I had meant to tell a story that made sense, but in the actual telling, things had gotten confused and I was all over the place.  It seemed somehow fitting.  The words were just coming now, in a panicked explosion.  I had to say it all now, even though I could feel Harry pulling away, shutting down, hating me.

Harry had gotten up to stand by the window, looking out on the rainy London streets.  I could see the muscles working in his jaw, his arms tense, and all I wanted was to touch him.  

“One night, feeling particularly angry, tired of being ignored, I got obliterated.  I was manic on cocaine, screaming at Tom who would just look past me, drugged out on god knows what.  Colin came in and tried to calm me down.  I wasn’t having it, but I took his drugs, and before I knew it, I was underneath of him, a needle hanging from my arm as he fucked me while my husband watched.”  I heard Harry breathe in sharply, but I had to keep going. “I didn’t even care.  All I cared about was shocking Tom into noticing me, into seeing how horrible things had gotten.  In my fucked up head I thought that maybe this would shock him, would make him see me, be the thing that snapped us out of whatever horrible hell we had wound up in.  It didn’t, of course.  As Colin lay on top of me, I looked over at Tom.”  I had started crying now.  Wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, I continued.  “He stared right back at me, right into my eyes.  He didn’t move, he didn’t say anything.  He just watched.  He fucking watched.”  I wanted Harry to come to me, comfort me, say something, but he didn’t.  I couldn’t blame him.  “I overdosed that night.  I had had enough.  If my husband could watch me, so coldly, having sex with another man, with no hint of emotion, I figured things were over, and I didn’t want to live.  I was pregnant then, though I didn’t know it yet.  I found out at the hospital when they took me in for overdosing.  I was devastated.  I stopped immediately with the drinking and the drugs, all of the craziness.  I thought that maybe this would be our ticket out of all of this mess.  When I told Tom, I thought maybe it would bring us back together, but he didn’t believe me, that it was his, I mean.  It was, she was.  I hadn’t been with anyone else after I brought that guy home, other than that night with Colin, but Tom wouldn’t believe me.  He left that night, angry.  I don’t know where he went, but I know he was stoned when he got into his car and drove away.  I don’t even know where he was going.   He never hit the brakes though, not even at the last minute.  He meant to drive into that tree.  He killed himself because of me.”  I put my head in my hands and sobbed, trying to remember that all of it was behind me, though I know that it would always be a part of me.  

I heard Harry move close to me, then felt him squeeze next to me in the over-sized chair, wrapping his arm around me, smoothing my hair, letting me sob against his shoulder.  I calmed down eventually, feeling that maybe everything was okay, and that maybe Harry wouldn’t hate me like I thought.  The idea that he would still love me after all of this bolstered me, gave me some hope.  As my shaking and sobbing subsided, he cupped my face in his hands, and pulled my face to his.  He looked at me, and I felt like things would be alright.  

“I’m sorry you went through all of that,” he said quietly, and brought his lips to mine, kissing me gently.  “I’ll get you a glass of water,” he said to me, and stood up.  He smiled at me, and turned his back and I was sure that this would be okay.

I was wrong.

I heard his footsteps in the quiet house as he walked to the kitchen.  

I heard a cabinet door open and close.  

I heard the water running from the faucet.

I heard nothing.  For minutes I heard nothing, and I sat frozen in the chair, waiting, my anxiety and my fear growing and my hope dwindling.  

And then I heard a glass crashing against a wall, and I heard the “fuck!” escaping from him in a way that was so unlike him, and I knew.  

I knew just how wrong I was.

He walked back into the room, and stood in the doorway, the glass of water forgotten.  He leaned against the door frame and stared out of the window, still.  

I wanted to shrink into that chair and disappear.  I wanted to take back everything I had said and slip back into a happy oblivion where my past mistakes didn’t impact my future.  

I had to remind myself that I was the one who had come here to shatter his happiness, and that even if it was the right thing to do, it was at a cost to him and I had no choice but to pay the price.  

Propelled by a need to comfort him, I stood and walked toward him.  His silence was unbearable.  I reached up to touch his arm, but he flinched.  I let my hand drop to my side, feeling the crushing weight of his rejection.  I know I had shattered a certain part of his world.  The Tom he knew and idolized.  The me that he thought was good and kind and happy, revealing instead a horrible reality.  

“Harry?”

He turned to look at me, his eyes red, the evidence of tears obvious on his face.  “Harry, I’m so sorry.  I’m so so sorry.  But I had to tell you.  You had to know, before….”  I trailed off, certain that there would be no after, and so, in the end, I had ruined everything for the chance of something that might actually have been good.  

“I think you should go, Georgia.”  

“Please, Harry, don’t hate me,” I begged, desperate for this to have a happy ending.  “Talk to me.”

He regarded me.  He was standing so close to me that I could feel the heat radiating from him, but he was so far away, so very far away.  I had lost.

“I don’t hate you, Georgia.  But I don’t think there’s anything to say.”  He stepped out of the doorway to let me pass.  

I picked up my bag that I had dropped by the door and turned back to him.  My eyes burned, though my tears had stopped, and I struggled to find something to say as I looked at his face.  But there weren’t any words that could undo what I had done to cause the pain that was so obvious in his features. 

He stepped passed me then, his arm brushing mine.  "Please go,” he said, his voice breaking as he pulled the door open.  

He was done, then. 

And there was nothing else I could do but go. 


	19. Everywhere

After I had left his house, I took a car back to my hotel and stared at the walls for hours. I went to the meeting the next day, where Harry was noticeably absent. I went straight from the meeting to the airport, where, sitting at a bar before my flight, I had two drinks. I shouldn’t have, but I did.

I boarded the plane and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come and so I put my headphones on and listened to the playlist that Magda had sent me. It was a demo of their latest album. I told myself I turned it on because it was part of my job. I had to listen. I had to get a feel for the ‘direction’ if I was going to style them, right? But really, I just wanted to hear his voice.

I listened, jotting down some notes as I went, visualizing some ideas. My pencil was moving quickly, and then all at once it froze. Harry’s voice came through the speakers, and I leaned back, my head pressed against the seat as the song played and Harry sang. It was a song I hadn’t heard in months, one that Harry had written and sung in that little bar in London so many months ago. I remember how the words had hit me, how I had felt, how he had said he wanted to show me how he felt. How I hadn’t believed him.

Our little secret, moments stolen in the dark. I knew I loved you then, though you’re stuck in way back when.

 _Well,_ I thought bitterly. _Fucking way back when has showed up on our front doorstep. Bet you don’t love me so much now, do you?_

It was a sweet song. A lovely, perfect, beautiful song. It had been a long time since someone had written a song about me, for me, and a sweet one at that.

But all I could think about what how this whole stupid thing had been burned to the ground.

I ripped the headphones off my head and spent the rest of the flight from London to New York drinking.

****

I could feel Darcy’s eyes on me as I walked unsteadily to her car, awkwardly wheeling my carry-on behind me. I no doubt looked like a mess. A sleepless red-eye flight and too much to drink and a broken heart would do that to a person.

“I’m guessing things didn’t go so well,” she said as I shoved my bag in the back and flopped into the car. I pulled down the mirror and looked at my face. Dark circles, blood-shot eyes. My hair was so tangled I couldn’t get my fingers through it. I was sure that the pack of gum I had chewed between getting off the plane and getting into Darcy’s car did little disguise my current state.

“Georgia,” she started nervously with a hint of a warning in her voice.

“I’m ok,” I told her. “Can we just go?”

“George….”

“I know, Darcy. I am aware of my condition. Can you please just take me home so I can sleep it off?”

“You don’t get to do this,” she said to me, her no-nonsense attitude out in full force. “I’m not going to be a party to this. You cannot just lose yourself every time something bad happens.”

“I know. But I don’t need you to drop me off at some hospital, so you can just calm down. I just need to go home and get some sleep.” I turned to face her and could tell she wasn’t quite sure. I attempted a more apologetic tone. “Look, I am tired, and I had a really shitty yesterday. And today wasn’t much better. And I was sad and I drank too much, but I don’t need to be rushed off to rehab, ok? Please, just let me go home and rest, and if, tomorrow, you are still worried you can take me wherever the fuck you want to take me, ok? But please,” I begged, “I just want to sleep.”

****

“Feeling better, then?” Darcy asked me over a steaming cup of coffee.

“Yes,” I said, glaring at her. I had caught up on my sleep, and gotten back to my normal routine.

“So, do you want to talk about London? How did it go?”

“Horribly?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I told him the truth.”

“All of it?”

“All of it? That might have taken a century. But I told him the important parts—the worst parts.”

“How’d he take it?”

“I haven’t heard from him since.” It had been two weeks.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.

“I laid it all out for him, and then he asked me to leave.” The call I was waiting for still hadn’t come.

“Maybe you should call him.”

“And say what? ‘I’m sorry I’m a horrible person, but can’t we just forget I said and did all those things’?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ball’s in his court. If he wants to talk, he knows how to reach me.”

“Don’t you miss him?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“Sorry, darling.”

“I’m not. I’m sad, but I’m not sorry. It had to be done, right? Either I told him, or he would find out some other way.”

“Well, you’ll have to see him again soon, won’t you?”

“Not if I can help it,” I told her.

****

_“Harry Styles seen Christmasing with new love interest.”_

_“Harry Styles brings new girl home to meet his mum.”_

_“Harry Styles….romance heats up.”_

_“Harry Styles….Is it love?”_

****

_“Harry and Ana Plan Valentine’s Day Getaway”_

****

“Have you seen—”

“I don’t want to talk about it Darcy.”

“But…”

“But nothing.”

“Right, then. So…when do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”


	20. Park City

Tomorrow.

The day had been looming and as the weeks and then months passed, I started to dread it more and more.  Christmas had come and gone, and then January was over.  I had had the luxury of concentrating on other things so that I didn’t have the band on my mind every moment of every day, and I had at least gotten used to the idea that Harry and I were through, even if there were times that it made me incredibly sad.  Even if there were times that I stared at my phone and wished as hard as I could that a message from him would pop up on the screen.  Even if there were nights that I cried for all of the possibilities that had now been cut short.

February marched in with freezing temperatures but little fanfare, and the romance rumors between Harry and Ana were going stronger than ever.  Any hope I had that Harry and I might patch things up, rekindle, be happy together was fading fast.  

And then, one night as I was falling asleep, my phone lit up with a text.  

 _It’s too much_ , he had written.   _I can’t do this_.

I had spent several sleepless hours staring at the message, analyzing what it meant, trying to come up with some sort of response.  I wanted to know what, specifically, was too much.  I wanted to know what he couldn’t do.  I wanted to know which parts I could fix, heal, bury, that would make all of it not too much.  I wanted to know what I could do to, at the very least, get my friend back.  

In the end, I said nothing.  

The next morning, I had flipped on the television and saw the morning talk show hosts gushing over Harry’s romantic getaway with Ana.  I started to turn it off, but then, fueled by curiosity, decided to watch.  I wanted to see; I needed to know whether or not this was fake.

What I saw was heartbreaking.

He looked happy.  They looked happy.  He looked genuinely pleased to be with this gorgeous girl, his arm slung around her waist as they laughed, grinning at each other on the beach.  It looked so genuine that I felt as though I was imposing on them, just looking at the photos.  

And so, I turned it of, and the tears fell down my face.  I understood then, that his message was a goodbye.  The timing was not coincidental.  He knew that this was coming, and I guessed that was his way of ending things, of putting to rest any lingering hope of us having some chance.

****

That small bit of closure did not make it easier to get on the plane and head to Utah, but it made things simpler.  At least I knew, even if a part of me didn’t want to believe it. Even if a part of me wanted to believe it was just another publicity stunt, another tactic of management parading Harry around town with a beautiful girl to attract attention.  

My anxiety lessened once the plane was in the air, and I told myself that this was better, that it would be easier to not have a pile of what-if scenarios going on in my head.  It was done.  It was through, that was that; I could just work, and he could be happy, and in a few days I’d be back at home.  My apprehension grew, though, as the car sped through the mountains.  I was no stranger to awkward situations, but in the past I had always hidden behind a haze of alcohol or some other substance.  These days, there was none of that.  I was on my own, and that scared me.

I was grateful that I was the first to arrive in the dressing room.  I set about my work quietly, chatted with people as they arrived, and tried not to spend too much time anticipating the arrival of Harry.  I told myself that I was a grown up, that I was an adult with bills and responsibilities and life experience and that I should not be feeling like a heartbroken teenager, but it was no use.  As the minutes passed I could feel my anxiety building, and out of habit, I scanned the room for something to take the edge off.  

There was nothing, which was just as well.

I felt my pulse quicken as Harry walked into the room behind the others, his head bent and looking at his phone.  His hair was long, the damp curls plastered to his forehead, and I watched as he made his way into the room and sat down.  He didn’t notice seem to notice me at all.  I heard the lilt of his voice over the other noise in the room, testing out a joke on Liam who just rolled his eyes.  Harry started with another one as Niall came up to me.

“Georgia!” He exclaimed, loudly enough for the entire state to hear.  I was hyper-aware of Harry’s presence in the room, and I did not miss the way his voice cut off abruptly when he heard my name.  As Niall grabbed me and lifted me off the ground in a show of affection, I tried desperately to keep myself from looking in Harry’s direction.  

“Things just aren’t the same without you,” Niall said to me.  “Are they, lads?”

I smiled as best I could, trying to ignore the blank look on Harry’s face that I could see out of the corner of my eye.

I wrapped my hand around Niall’s wrist and pulled him away from the others.  “Let’s see about your clothes,” I told him, and then more quietly, casually, I hoped, said, “Were you guys expecting me?”

“Nope!  Lovely surprise to have you back, though,” he said to me.

“That explains it,” I said.  

“Explains what?” Niall asked.  

“How surprised you were to see me,” I said to him with a smile.  That explained the look on Harry’s face.  He obviously had no clue that I would be showing up today.

“Niall, you’ve put on some muscle,” I said to him as I tried to stuff him in a jacket that had fit only a few months ago.  “Is that uncomfortable?”

“A bit tight,” he said, beaming.

“Ok.  I’ve got to rework some things then.  Can you do me a favor and tell Louis and Harry to go see Fiona?  And then grab Liam and Zayn and bring them over here,” I told him.

****

“Can you just stop fidgeting,” I fussed at Niall, who was proving to be more difficult to dress than I had thought.  “You need to stop with the working out,” I told him.  The other two had been much easier and had flown through their fittings.  

“I don’t understand what the rush is,” Niall complained.

“Hey, Georgia?  Can you come here a minute?” I heard my intern, Fiona, call from the other side of the dressing room.  

“Shit,” I said under my breath as I stuck myself with a pin.  “You’ll have to come here Fiona,” I told her.  “Niall’s a practical pin cushion and I don’t trust him to be careful.”  I was crouched down trying to hem his pants.  I looked up as Fiona shuffled over.

“Harry is being difficult,” she told me.  I looked at her, and could tell she was close to tears.  It didn’t make much sense, as Harry was never nasty to anyone.  

“What do you mean, he’s being difficult?”

“He just keeps goofing off, and I know we don’t have much time, and I don’t know what to do,” she said, her chin quivering.  

“Harry, you’ve made Fee cry!” Niall shouted across the room.  Everyone turned to look at us and she burst into tears and ran away.

“Good job, Niall,” I said to him.

“I was trying to help.”

“I think she has a crush on him,” I whispered conspiratorially as I stuck another pin in place.  

“Her and every other woman on earth,” Niall said.  “You hear that Harry?  Every woman on earth loves you.  Including…”

“Niall.  Shut.  UP,” I told him, glancing toward the doors Fiona had just disappeared through, hoping she wasn’t taking the teasing too hard, and trying not to think about all of the women who loved Harry.

“Harry!”  Niall called again.

“What is it, Niall?”  Harry said, walking toward us, then stopping to stand at an awkward distance.  He didn’t look at me, and I tried my hardest to ignore him.  I crouched down on the floor to hem Niall’s pants, wishing that Harry would just go away or that I’d magically disappear.

“Didn’t you hear me?  You made Fiona cry.”

“I didn’t,” he said to Niall.

“You did.  She said you were goofing off and we were running out of time, and then she ran off!”  Niall obviously thought the whole thing was funny, but I could tell Harry was bothered.  

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry said, mostly to himself.   

“Well, you did.  Georgia says she has a crush on you.”

“Georgia has a crush on me?”  

I winced in pain as I stuck a sharp pin into my finger.  

“Jesus, Harry.  Fee.  Fiona.  That’s why she was crying.”

“I hardly think that….”  Harry said as he trailed off.  I kept my head down, pretending that I wasn’t there.

“Well, I think Georgia’s right.  Too bad you’re taken, eh?”  Niall said with a laugh.  It felt like a punch in my stomach.  “Fiona is pretty cute.”

“Maybe you should date her then,” Harry said sullenly.  

I had used twice as many pins as necessary, hoping to melt into the floor while I was at it, and still Harry was showing no indication of walking away.

“I don’t understand the rush, anyway,” Niall said.  “Why are we doing fittings for things we won’t wear for weeks?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled.  I wondered if he noticed me at all.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Niall said.  “Georgia, what’s with the rush?”

I looked up at him and then straightened up and faced the mirror.  

“I’m only here for a couple of days,” I said quietly as I tugged on his jacket.  I wasn’t even sure Harry heard me, but as I looked at Niall in the mirror, Harry’s eyes met mine.  

“A couple days!” Niall exclaimed, completely ignoring anything that may have passed between me and Harry.  “That’s unacceptable.”

“It’s the way it is,” I told him.  

“Harry, tell her that’s unacceptable!”

Harry didn’t say anything.  

“What’s wrong with you, Harry?  What the hell is wrong with everyone,” Niall asked as I helped him out of the pants.  “And why aren’t you coming on the road with us?”

“You don’t have a clue, do you?” I asked him, careful not to look at Harry who was still standing there next to us.  

“What’s new?  No one ever tells me anything,” he said, and walked off to join his friends.  

“I don’t have a shirt to wear,” Harry said to me as Niall walked away.  I took a breath, looking again at the door through which Fiona had disappeared, before turning to look at him.  He was indeed shirtless.  

“Fiona should be back in a minute,” I told him.

“Georgia,” Louis said, walking up to us.  He glanced between me and Harry, who were standing several feet apart and obviously trying to avoid each others gazes.  

“You aren’t dressed?” I said to him.  

“No, love, that’s the problem.”

“Dammit,” I said, looking between the two of them.  My anxiety about Harry had been replaced by annoyance at Fiona.  It would not do for her to be running off upset all the time, especially at crucial moments like these, when we were trying to get ready for an event.  

I left them standing there while I stalked over to the bathroom door and banged on it before pushing it open.

“Fiona,” I said.  She looked up at me with her tear stained face.  I felt a tug of compassion for her, but I didn’t have time to be too sympathetic.  “Fiona, I’m sorry that you are having a bad day, but we can’t afford to waste time.  I need you to do your job.”

“I-I’m sorry, I just…,” she said, before starting to cry again.

“Has something happened?”

“No,” she said.  

“Have the guys been mean to you or something?”

“No,” she answered, sounding offended I’d even suggest it.  “Never.”

“Right.  Well.  I know that this can be stressful, but you just need to be tough about it, okay?  I cannot afford to have an intern who doesn’t have a thick skin.  Louis and Harry are still not dressed, and we only have a little time left before they have to go.”

“I know.  I’ll be better, okay?”

“Okay.  Splash some water on your face, and come finish with Harry.”

“Georgia, I can’t,” she said, her face turning red.  

“Why not?”  

“Please Georgia, just not today.  Not after that,” she said, waving her hand toward the door.  “It was SO embarrassing.”

I sighed and leaned against the door.  “You can’t avoid him if you’re going to keep this job,” I told her.  I almost laughed out loud.  Here I was lecturing someone over the very thing I was trying to do.  “You’re going to have to deal with him at some point,” I said to her, though I was mostly talking to myself.

“I know,” she whined.  “Just for today?  Please?  I’ll take care of Louis?”

“Fine,” I sighed.  “Hurry up then.”

I pushed through the door again, bracing myself for the awkwardness that was to come.  

“Louis, Fiona will be out in a moment and she’ll take care of you,” I told him.  “Harry, you need to come with me.”  I tried to sound matter of fact and professional, and hoped that my voice sounded more cool than I felt.  Harry followed me to the other side of the room and stood quietly as I searched through the rack of clothes.  Fiona had a lot to learn—way more than I had realized, and I hoped that she could handle this job without me staring over her shoulder every moment, or the part where I wasn’t going on tour would have to change.  And the last thing I wanted to do was to go on tour.

“Okay,” I said.  I glanced at him and realized he wasn’t even wearing the right pants for the afternoon event.  I cursed myself for choosing a profession that so often placed me in the presence of naked people, and I cursed myself for being an idiot who fell in love with those people.  “You aren’t even wearing the right pants,” I mumbled.

“What’s that?”  

“Wrong pants,” I said more clearly, holding out the proper pair and trying not to look at him.  

“Oh.”  

I averted my eyes, pretending to check on what Fiona was doing with Louis while Harry pulled off his pants.  He pulled the other ones from my grip.  I stalled, selecting a shirt from the rack, though I knew full well which shirt was the right one.

“You can look,” he said, his voice flat.

“I was just trying to figure out which shirt,” I defended myself, then cursed myself for being so obvious.

“Right,” he said, and I caught his eye-roll.  

I held the shirt out to him, but instead of taking it from me, he stepped forward and then turned his back to me.  He pushed his arms through the sleeves as I held it there, and I couldn’t help but stare at the hair curling at the nape of his neck, or the way his shoulders moved as he shrugged into the shirt.  I could feel the warmth of his skin and smell the scent of his soap.  

He turned abruptly, his bare chest only inches away from me, and out of habit I started to button his shirt from the bottom.  I stopped abruptly after the first two, suddenly conscious of how intimate this was, and how out of place it seemed.  My eyes were level with his collar bone, and, of course, that stupid tattoo and those stupid words.  

I let my hands drop.  

“You can button it yourself,” I said.  “Socks, shoes, belt,” I told him, placing the items on the table next to him.  

I could feel his eyes on me, but I kept mine averted and wondered how this was ever going to work.

“Excuse me,” Louis said then, “hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said to us.  

“Well—” Harry began.

“No,” I said at the same time and then continued, “we’re done.  What’s up?” I asked, grateful for the interruption.  “Jesus, what have you got on?” I said to him.  “This isn’t right at all.”

“I didn’t think so, but I didn’t want to upset Fiona,” he said quietly.  I looked over his shoulder and saw that Harry was still standing there.  

“Do you need something?” I asked him.  It came out more pointed than I wanted, but I could not do anything about that or him or us at this moment.  Louis gave me a weird look.  

“Uh, no,” he said, picking up his belt.  

“What’s this all about,” Louis said, as Harry walked off.  

“Nothing.”  I was not in the mood to have any sorts of talks.  “We need to get you dressed.”

****

“So, exactly how bad is it?” I asked as I sat across from Magda.

“Well, it’s not been great,” she told me.  

“And no one said anything to me?”

“Well, we didn’t notice at first.  The guys didn’t want to get her in trouble so they didn’t say anything for a while.  They were just going with it or dressing themselves.  And they’ve been on a break anyway, so it mostly didn’t matter.”

“Ugh.  This really isn’t rocket science,” I told her.  “I’m going to have to fire her.”

“Will you be able to find someone else?”

I had no clue if I would be able to find someone else.  Fiona had come highly recommended, and seemed like the perfect fit to travel with band so that I didn’t have to.  

“There’s always someone who will take a gig like this, but Fiona came highly recommended and look how that turned out.”

“Let’s have a talk with her tomorrow, then.  And we’ll figure out how to proceed.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Seriously, Magda, I don’t really want to tour, but I’m not sure I can trust anyone else to do it.  If I had come and Fiona had her act together, then fine, but now?”

“I know.  Let’s just not worry about it tonight?”

“Fine.  Fine.  We won’t worry about it tonight,” I told her, and as I looked over her shoulder, I realized I might have something else to worry about instead.  

I had not intended to get stuck at this party and was anxious to leave before Harry showed up, but I saw now that it was too late.  

As Magda stood up, I sank back into the cushions hoping that he wouldn’t notice me and that I could somehow escape unseen.  Harry was once again glued to his phone with a grin on his face, not even looking where he was or who was around him as he flopped down in the space Magda had just left.  I let my eyes rest on him for just a moment, and couldn’t help but wish that that grin was for me.  

I kept telling myself that I wanted him to be happy, even if it hurt, even if I felt a nauseating pang of jealousy every time I saw a picture or read a headline, even though it felt like he was a million miles away when he was sitting just a few feet away from me.

“You talking to Ana?”  Someone I didn’t recognized asked him the question.

I watched as Harry lifted his head and smiled.  “Yeah,” he said and turned back to his phone.  

“Do you ever put that thing down?”

“He hasn’t lately, mate, that’s for sure.”

“What of it, man?” Harry asked.  

“What are you drinking, Georgia?”  Niall asked me, his hand on my mostly empty cup.  “I’ll get you a refill.”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said to him, leaning forward, exposed now and I looked apologetically at Harry.  I felt uncomfortable, as if I was intruding.  

“Ah, come on, have a little fun,” Niall encouraged me.  I watched as Harry’s eyes went to the cup before looking back to my face.

“It’s just water,” I answered, hoping no one would comment on the fact that I was the only one not drinking.

“Okay, I’ll get you some,” Niall said amiably and wandered away with my cup.  

“I didn’t see you there,” Harry said to me.  

“I’m easy to miss, I guess,” I said, because I’m an idiot.  He screwed up his face at me, obviously not liking my answer.

“Have you met Ana?” Niall asked as he handed me my cup, pulling me from one end of awkward to the other.

“Uh, no, I haven’t,” I said.  “I’ve been a bit…out of touch.”

I looked at Harry, hoping my discomfort wasn’t too obvious, and watched as he slipped his phone into his pocket.  “She sounds great, from what I’ve heard,” I said, hoping that I seemed okay with Harry having a girlfriend, hoping that my voice didn’t give away my disappointment.

“Well, you’ll meet her soon enough,” Niall said.  I couldn’t help but notice the look that Harry gave him.  “She’s gonna come hang out on tour for a bit, right?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harry answered.  

I felt like there was something I was missing, and I didn’t like the feeling.  

“I don’t know.  I’m not actually touring,” I told them, though the incident with Fiona was making it seem like more of a dreaded possibility.

“Crap.  Right.  I really think you should rethink that,” Niall told me.

“I think it’s for the best,” I told him, standing up.  “I’m gonna get some air,” I said, excusing myself from the group.  

I pulled the curtain aside and pulled the sliding door open, stepping into the cold air.  I let the curtain drop, but didn’t shut the door.  I could still hear the conversations from inside as I pulled my sweater more tightly around me and stared at the mountains surrounding us.

“Are you okay?” I heard him ask me.  

Harry had slipped onto the balcony soundlessly and pushed the glass door shut as I turned to look at him.  

It was a quiet night.  It was late and even in the midst of a film festival, the city seemed to have shut down.  He took a step toward me, and then another, until he was standing beside me, his hands gripping the iron of the railing, leaning forward into the night.  

“Are you?” He asked me again.  

 _Was I_ _?_  I wondered as I leaned against the railing, remembering another night more than a year ago on a another balcony where we had started something we’d never get to finish.  It had been warm that night.  In a poetic contrast, this night was cold, and I could feel the cold iron of the railing against my back where I leaned against it.  

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.  “Are you?”

“Sometimes,” he told me.

The silence opened up between us then, a gap we couldn’t bridge.  It was quiet enough that I could hear him breathing beside me as I watched the small clouds of condensation form in front of me from my own anxious breathing.

I ached to touch him.  It took all my will to keep my arms at my sides, even as I shivered in the cold.  

“You’re shaking,” he observed, straightening and moving to stand in front of me.  

“It’s cold,” I said stupidly.

He shrugged his jacket off, and reached around me, wrapping it around my shoulders.  It was still warm from him; it smelled like him.  I waited for him to move away, but he didn’t.  Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me to him, holding me against his body.  I let myself relax against him, my forehead pressed to his chest and he rested his chin on top of my head.

“Remember that night in New Orleans?” He asked me.  

“Yes,” I whispered.

“I wish things had gone differently,” he said.  

“So do I,” I told him.

He let his arms drop to his side, but he stood close and I stared at his shoulder.  I was afraid to look at his face, afraid of what I’d see there.

“Georgia,” he said quietly, and I looked then.  I looked at his face, wondering what he was thinking, what he would say.

He rocked toward me, and leaned down, bringing his face toward mine, pressing his lips against my own.  It was a sweet kiss, a goodbye kiss, I thought, and I begged myself not to start crying though I could feel the lump in my throat and the sting in my eyes.  

“Harry,” I said, though I hardly made a sound.  

I looked at him, his face shadowed by the light of the room that filtered through the curtains and onto the balcony.  

“I’m glad to see you,” he told me then.

“It didn’t seem that way.”

“I miss you,” he added, ignoring my comment.

I wanted to say, “could have fooled me,” or “funny way of showing it,” or something equally bitchy, but I bit my tongue, literally, until I couldn’t stand the pain.  

“Say something,” he begged, obviously worried at my silence, my lack of response.  What did he expect me to say, I wondered.  What was there to say?  We were having the same conversation we had had dozens of times before.  How many times had we slammed into each other and then pushed each other away?  Did he want me to fall into his arms, into his bed, like I always did?  Did he want to hear how much I still wanted to be with him?  How much I missed him, loved him, _needed_ him?  

As much as I wanted to say those things to him.  I couldn’t.

Things were different now.

“What’s to say?”  I felt breathless, an uneasy feeling of dread knotting in my chest.  

“What?” He said, his eyes wide with confusion.  

“There’s nothing to say,” I repeated.

“You don’t really mean that,” he said.  I looked at him, not knowing what I meant at all, and whether it was something he saw in my face, I don’t know, but he grabbed my arms and pulled me too him, and pressed his lips to mine again, but with a different intent this time.  As my heart raced, and my brain was panicking, I found myself leaning into him, my mouth parting for him, letting him kiss me before the sound of the balcony door sliding open brought me back to reality.  

I backed away from him, and he straightened from where he was leaning against the railing.  He  moved toward me as a small crowd of people filled the small space around us.  

Conscious of a dozen eyes on us, I fought with myself not to cause a scene.  He came closer to me, backing me into a corner, away from the group of people.  He bent toward me, as if to kiss me again, and I shoved him away.  

“Is that what you think of me,” I whispered, hurt in a way I hadn’t been hurt in a long time.  Hurt by him in a way he had never hurt me.  He had a girlfriend, and there he was, kissing me on a balcony in a way that boys with girlfriends shouldn’t kiss other girls.  The idea that he thought I would be okay with that, would go along with it, crushed me, and it was impossible to keep the tears from falling.  

“No, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Harry,” I said as I wiped my eyes with the sleeves of his jacket.  “I’m not that girl anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

I ducked around him and through the small crowd.

“Listen, Georgia, wait—,” he broke off as slipped into the hotel room.  

I didn’t stop to slide the door shut, and instead hurried through the room, anxious to escape.  I managed to hold myself together until I reached my room, all at once glad and devastated that he hadn’t come after me.

I walked through the dark room heading straight for the minibar.  As I approached it, and the promise of relief filled my head, I caught myself in the mirror.  My hair was windblown, my cheeks red from the cold, my eyelashes wet with tears.  

And Harry’s coat.  

I was still wearing it.  I saw in the mirror how big it was on me, and it only pointed out how thin I had gotten, how sad I had been, and how unattainable being truly happy seemed.  

I might have thought I looked beautiful if I hadn’t hated myself so much at that moment.  All I could see is that girl I had been, the girl that I apparently still was.  The girl who gave up everything for nothing.  The girl who was hurt, and who caused so much hurt herself.  The girl who used people and allowed herself to be used.  I stared at myself and wondered why.  I wondered what it was that Tom had seen in me that made him think I wasn’t worth it.  And I wondered what it was that Harry saw in me that made him think whatever it was he had been thinking on that balcony.  That I would be his entertainment while his girlfriend wasn’t around?  That I’d let him kiss me in front of our friends like it was no big deal and then stay hidden when it was convenient for him?  I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t like that, that it was all my fault in the first place, but it had all gotten jumbled up and any rational part of me that existed was getting swallowed up by my own paranoia.  

The best thing to do would be to forget, I reasoned, so, disgusted with myself, I opened the cabinet, willing to take whatever I could find.  I remembered too late that I had specifically requested that only water be available and I cursed myself for that and then laughed bitterly at how well I knew myself—that I knew that even the smallest something would send me rushing to the liquor cabinet.

My options limited, I crawled into the bed, wrapping his coat around me and cried myself to sleep.


	21. On the Road Again

I woke up, head aching, eyes swollen and stinging.  I kept my eyes closed, and stayed still, not wanting to face the sunlight pouring in through the window.  I had, regrettably, not closed the blinds last night.  I inhaled deeply and his familiar scent flooded my nose.  

Harry.  

 _Harry?_  I registered this with some shock.  I kept very still, my eyes still screwed shut.  I wracked my brain for a memory, for some recollection of why he would be here; I couldn’t remember.  I couldn’t remember, which meant what?  That I had been drinking?  But I didn’t remember drinking.  I specifically remembered not drinking and being mad at that fact.  I remembered seeing him.  I remembered him kissing me.  I remembered me kissing him.  And I remembered storming away from him;  I remembered how I felt, how hurt and betrayed I was.  And I remembered crawling into bed, definitely sober, definitely alone.  I lay there, analyzing my headache, the way I felt, the pang in my stomach.  I was no stranger to drinking, and I knew that I was not hungover and I certainly was not drunk.  

I opened my eyes then.  I expected—even if it was ridiculous, I wanted—to see him lying there beside me, his bare chest, the black of his tattoos against his pale skin, his messy hair sprawled against the pillow, his pink lips turned up in a sleepy grin.  Even if I knew it was crazy, or wrong, or whatever else it might be—if any part of me was honest, that is what I hoped to see.  That is what I _wanted_ to see.  Any clarity I had had in the moment last night, all of those parts of me that ran away from him last night, it was all gone.

I wanted him.  I needed him.  I loved him.  I would take whatever part of him I could get.

And so, when I opened my eyes and all I saw was the empty space beside me and Harry’s crumpled cashmere coat that was balled up in my arms, I felt deflated and defeated and foolish.  

I fought with myself to stop thinking, but I couldn’t, and the previous day’s events swirled in my head.  They way we had barely talked, the awkwardness, the enduring ache I felt every time I was near him and couldn’t touch him.  The way he had stood so close to me on that balcony and the way he had put his coat around my shoulders, and the way he had touched me.  The way his fingers rested on my skin so gently, the way he pressed his lips to mine.

I sat up and angrily tossed his jacket into the corner and balled my hands into fists so tight that my nails dug into my palms.  It hurt, but the pain was a welcome relief.

****

“I fucked up last night,” I heard Harry say just a few hours later.  I had come straight from the airport to the dressing room.  I had learned upon arrival in Seattle, to my shock, that Fiona had quit without talking to me which meant that my already insurmountable workload would be doubled.  I only had a few hours to do three days of work before the first show of the tour began.  

He wasn’t talking to me.  I was in the adjoining room, buried in a sea of clothes.  I should have left, or at least made my presence known, but I couldn’t make myself move.  

“What did you do this time?”

“I kissed her.”

“Harry.  You didn’t.”

“I did.  I couldn’t help it.”

“You haven’t even talked to her in months, much less seen her.”

“I know.”

“I thought—”

“I did too.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“We talked about this, mate.”

“I know.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“To Georgia….?”

“Yes. Georgia.”

“No.  Not yet.”

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know.  She disappeared last night.”

“Did you even try to go after her?”

“No.  I wanted to go after her, but she seemed so…offended.  So I went back to my room and called Ana.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.  I needed to talk to her.  I needed to tell someone.  I needed to tell her.”

“So you told Ana?  About kissing Georgia?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did she say?”

“What do you think she said?”

“I can guess, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

“She told me I need to grow up.  She told me I need to figure out what I want and stop acting like a stupid kid.  That I either need to man up and commit, or I need to break it off.”

“She’s right.”

“I know she’s right.  I just…I can’t sort it out in my head.  I mean, I’ve learned how to put it out of my mind—when I’m working, or when I’m out with Ana or you, or whoever, but as soon as I see her again….”

“You need to talk her, Harry.  That’s all there is to it.”

****

“Georgia,” Harry said to me.

“Yes?”  I didn’t turn to look at him, still feeling embarrassed for having listened in on his conversation earlier in the day, and for what had happened last night, and they way I had felt when I woke up in the morning.  

I hoped that he had sometimes unimportant to say, an easy to solve problem like a ripped seam or a missing button.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Not really,” I told him, my eyes trained on a pair of pants in front of me, my lip between my teeth, my heart racing.

I couldn’t handle many more of these moments, I thought to myself.  With Fiona gone, and having to face the fact that I would be touring for the foreseeable future, we needed an end point.  No more maybes, no more hope.  

It wasn’t really hope anyway.  Not anymore.  It was foolishness, it was childishness.  It was being afraid of facing the truth.  

“Please,” he said quietly.  The door slammed open then and a group of people stormed in, all loud and laughing.  It made us both jump, and he took advantage of the moment to take my hand and pull me into the attached room.  

A year ago, we would have been in each others arms, laughing as we kissed, touched—stolen moments when we thought no one was watching. 

I slouched against the wall, resigned to having this conversation.  

“Last night,” he began.

“Shouldn’t have happened,” I finished.

“No.  I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“I wanted to come after you.”

“It’s better that you didn’t.  That would have gone no where good.”

“I just mean…it wasn’t what it seemed like?  I just… _fuck_.  I can’t figure out what I’m trying to say here.”  He looked up at me, his eyes apologetic, his brows pulled together in frustration.  

“It’s okay, Harry.  It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, though.  I don’t want you to think…to think that I—.”

“Harry.  Stop.”  I couldn’t stand much more of this.  I wasn’t strong enough to stand much more of this without ending up exactly where I didn’t want to be.  “Let’s just forget about it.  It shouldn’t have happened, we both agree on that.  Let’s just leave it there, alright?”

He was tapping his thumb against his thigh.  Nervous.  His head was bent, and he wasn’t looking at me.  He took a deep, shaky breath.

“Hey,” I said, grabbing his hand.  “It’ll be okay,” I told him.  

“Will it?”

“I think so.  I miss you.”  I knew as the words left my mouth that they were lacking the necessary clarification.  “I miss our friendship,” I added quickly.

“Our…friendship?”  He looked at me then.

“I…listen,” I stalled, searching for the right words.  “Let’s just, start over, okay?  Clean slate.  Friends.”  The words popped out of my mouth like staccato notes.

“Clean slate,” he repeated, testing the words.  “That’s what you want?”

“It’s what I need, Harry.  I need a clean slate.  I need to start fresh.  I need to stop making the same mistakes.  I need a friend, Harry.  I really need a friend.  I don’t want to be anyone’s problem or anyone’s reason—for anything.  It’s been months.  It’s best we both continue to move on, don’t you think?  It’ll be better that way.”  I cut myself off, suddenly aware that I sounded like I was trying to convince myself of something I didn’t believe.

“Friends,” he said, testing the word.  

“Yes.  Friends.  Especially now that I’m going to have to go on tour with you guys again.  I have a job to do, and I can’t risk that again.  And it would really help if we could be friends.”

There was a knock on the door that startled both of us.  “It’s almost show time.”

“Shit.  They’re going to think….”

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” he told me.  

“But—”

“It only matters what we think, right?  As long as you and I know the truth?”

 _As long as he and I and Ana knew_ , I thought.  Even if I didn’t want to accept it, I hated that someone else had been added to the equation.  “And what’s the truth, Harry?”  I suddenly felt exhausted and overwhelmed.  

“The truth is that we are friends, if that’s what you want.  And no matter what, you can count on me.  Hey, look at me.”  

His smile made me want to cry.  

“Okay.”

“Okay.  And I’ll try not to do anything stupid, like kiss you on balconies.”  

I laughed and at the same time I felt a tear escape down my cheek.  “Okay.”

“Okay,” he said again.  “Friends.”

“Friends.”  I smiled and waited for the feeling of relief that I was expecting.

It didn’t come.

****

“Let’s have dinner,” Harry said to me as I rolled up the sleeve on his shirt and tried to concentrate on what I was doing.  Even several weeks into the tour, several weeks into our new reality, I still had to fight the urge to trail my fingers along his skin or tug playfully on his hair.  

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, there’s a great place here that I ate at the last time around.  Everyone else is going to some event.”

“Shouldn’t you go too?”

“I don’t have to,” he said.  “It’s optional.”

“Turn around,” I told him, facing him in the mirror.  It was getting easier, working with him.  It really was, but that didn’t mean we had reached the level of easy that existed before our ill-fated affair.  He was trying hard to be my friend, and I was doing my best to keep my distance, to keep things professional.  

“Come to dinner.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.  It’s just dinner.  Do you have other plans?”

“No.”  I never had other plans.  As soon as my work was done, I headed straight for the hotel.  I hadn’t even seen one of their shows.

“Do you ever have other plans?”

“No.”

“What do you do when you’re here?  You just work and then come to the shows and then go to your room?”

“I don’t even go to the shows,” I told him.

“What?”  The disbelief on his face was evident.  “You haven’t been to a show at all?”

“No.”

“Huh.  You should really come sometime.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously.  Come.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay.  But that means you’re definitely coming to dinner tonight.”

“Harry….”

“I’ll behave.  It isn’t a date or anything.  I just want to go to dinner at this place, and I don’t want to go alone.”

“Won’t Ana be here tomorrow?”  Ana wasn’t a topic that we broached.  In fact, I never mentioned her or acknowledged her existence.  Her name was uncomfortable in my mouth.  

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

“I just thought maybe if this place is so great you’d want to take her instead of me.”

“Uh.  No.  I want to go tonight.  And I want you to come.  Besides, she’s been delayed.  She won’t be able to come tomorrow.  She’s meeting us in Houston instead.  Stop trying to make up weird excuses,” he told me, pulling his hair away from his face.  “I’ll come find you after the show.”

And find me, he did.  He was leaning against the wall in the hallway when I opened the door.  

“Are you stalking me?”

“No.  I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to bail.”

“I’m not bailing, see?”  

“I do see.”  

“Let’s go, then.  It’s already past my bed time.”

We rode the short distance to the place in silence, both of us staring out of our respective windows and taking in the scenery.  At least, that’s what I pretended to do.  My eyebrows raised involuntarily when I saw where the car was stopping.

It was a quaint little Italian place.  Romantic would be the first word that came to mind.

“Relax.  I know how it looks.  But the food is worth it.”  He had already slid out of the car and was reaching in to help me out.  I took his hand and then dropped it as soon as I was on my feet.

We made our way into the restaurant, and the hostess led us to a quiet table in the back.

“Would you like some wine?”

“I don’t think so,” I said to him.

Even in the low light of the restaurant, I could see his cheeks color.  “Shit.  I forgot.”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you not drink at all?  Ever?”  He asked me, his initial embarrassment giving way to his natural curiosity.  He closed the drink menu and pushed it to the edge of the table.  

“Not never.  Just very occasionally and in very controlled circumstances.”

“And this isn’t a controlled circumstance?”

“What do you think?”  I meant it playfully, but it held more weight than I realized and he cleared his throat before turning his focus to the menu.  It was certainly not a controlled circumstance.

We had been seated in a corner booth, a bit away from the main dining area.  Maybe if we had been seated across from each other at a normal table it would have been different.  But this was romantic and intimate.  I could feel the warmth coming of him, and I had to be careful to keep my knee from resting against his.  I was practically sweating.

He didn’t seem bothered at all.

“You really haven’t seen our show?”

“Really.  I haven’t.”

“At all?”

“I’ve heard some of it, from backstage.”

“But you haven’t watched?”

“No.”

“Why?”  

I didn’t have a ready answer.  I didn’t even know why.  It just felt like something I couldn’t do, didn’t want to do, shouldn’t do.  So I just shrugged and said, “I’m busy, I guess.  I’ve had a lot of work, and it’s exhausting all of the flying back and forth.”

“So, stop doing all the flying back and forth.  What are you going to do when we go further away?  Spend 90% of time on airplanes?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”  I was winging this whole thing, and all of the traveling was exhausting, but it was also a relief.  I felt like, if I didn’t spend so much time with the crew and the band, that I could keep my distance easier.  That I wouldn’t become so entrenched, that I would be able to better control myself.  But I couldn’t deny that it was starting to wear on me.

“Pretty soon, it’s going to take it’s toll, one way or another,” he cautioned, as if he could read my mind.

“What are you, a mind reader now?” I teased.  

“I wish,” he said, seriously.

“I’m sure mind reading isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Do you really want to be able to know exactly what people are thinking all of the time?  I don’t.”

“It might not be so bad.”  

“Yes, well, maybe it’s not such a bad thought when like, 90% of the world’s population idolizes you,” I teased.  

The left side of his mouth went up in a partial grin and he rolled his eyes.  “Whatever.  But seriously.  I know you are trying to keep your distance.  I get it.  But, you are going to exhaust yourself and that won’t be great either.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a friendly dinner, not a therapy session.”

“Ha.  Ha.  Fine.  You should come to the show tomorrow night, though.”

“Tomorrow night, specifically?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”  I asked the question, but the waiter interrupted us before he could answer.  

We ordered our food and sipped on our water and chatted for a while about home and family and general work things, before the conversation flipped again.  

“I’m glad that you agreed to come to dinner,” he told me, as he twirled some pasta onto his fork.  

“I guess I was due for some socializing,” I joked.  

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Keep doing what?”  I knew exactly what, but I guess I chose to play dumb instead.

“You know what—turning everything into a joke.”

I shrugged.  “Why do you have to be so….” I searched for the right word. 

“So…?”

“I don’t know.  Honest?  Open?  Forthcoming?  I don’t know.  Can’t you just be a little more…indirect or something?”

“What’s wrong with wanting to have a meaningful conversation?  We haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

“Yeah, well—”

“Don’t make a joke.”

“Maybe we should have ordered that wine after all,” I said.  I was feeling agitated and uncomfortable.  I knew better than to expect that I would just have a casual dinner with him with some casual chit chat over some spaghetti.  I reached for my water glass and he caught my hand.  

“Georgia,” he said, his voice calm.  “Relax, love.”  

I pulled my hand from his grip.  “I think we have an audience,” I said to him.  A group of fellow diners had recognized him, and it was impossible not to notice their stares, though I’m sure they thought they were being discreet.

“So?”

“So?  What about Ana?”

“Ana?” He asked, screwing up his face in confusion.

“Excuse me,” a man said in front of us.  Harry was still staring at me, but I jerked my head in the direction of the intruder and Harry turned to him, his charming smile on display.  

“Hello,” Harry said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but my daughter just loves you and she would hate me forever if I didn’t ask you for a picture.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Harry answered, standing to take a picture with the guy.  I rolled my eyes, never quite able to accept that people felt compelled to interrupt someone’s dinner, though I knew it came with the territory.  Emboldened by the first, other people started to approach, and I knew that any hope of finishing our dinner was shot.  I was more than relieved as I didn’t not like the trajectory our dinner had taken.  

As Harry smiled for every person who shoved a camera in his face, I motioned over the waiter and had our meals boxed and the check paid.  Then I texted the security team, who, within seconds had showed up to escort us out.  

“You called in the guard, huh?”  

“Yeah.  It was getting too ridiculous.  And you didn’t even get to finish your dinner.”  I held up the bag for him.  “I rescued that, too.”  

“My knight in shining armor,” he said with a smile.  I looked away, and we lapsed into silence.

“That isn’t really how I wanted our evening to go,” he said after a few minutes.  

“No?”

“I wanted to have a conversation,” he told me.  

I groaned.  “Because our conversations always end so well.”  

“Sometimes they do,” he smiled a wicked, flirty smile.

“Watch it, Styles.  Flirting is not on the agenda.

“Ah, lighten up, Georgia” he sighed.  “A little flirting never hurt.”

I didn’t know what universe he was living in but in mine, that was an outright lie.

****

“This is nice,” I said as we sipped tea on a veranda at a cafe in Baton Rouge.  “The weather,” I clarified.

He stretched his legs out in front of him and rolled the sleeves on his t-shirt to catch some of the sun.  “Yeah,” he said in agreement.  “Isn’t it easier, not flying back to New York constantly?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“You didn’t come to the show.”

“I had a lot of work to do.”

He just grunted and sipped his tea.

“Houston should be fun,” I said.

He shrugged.  

“Darcy is coming.”

“Oh?”

“Ana will be there, right?”

“Yeah.”  He sighed and leaned his head back.  I could see that his eyes were shut behind the shade of his sunglasses.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”  He sounded irritated.  I didn’t know if I should press him or not.  “Worn out.”

“I think everyone is,” I agreed.  “At least we’ll have a few days off in Houston, right?”

“I guess.”

"Are things okay with Ana?"  I almost choked on the words as they left my mouth.  

"Sure.  Why wouldn’t they be?" 

“Ok….”  Maybe Ana wasn’t the best choice of conversation after all.  ”I’ve rented a cottage in Galveston for a few days,” I told him.  “My mom and Lily are going to come stay.”

“Sounds fun.”

I kicked him under the table.  “Why are you being such an ass?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.  It’s a beautiful day, and no one is bothering us for once.  I’m trying to have a nice conversation with you and you are being so sullen and sarcastic.”

“Sorry.”  He said the word, but his tone had not shifted.  

“Okay.  Well, I’m not going to do this.”  I pushed back in my chair and stood up, ready to walk off.  I fully expected him to straighten up, to apologize, to ask me to stay, or something, but he didn’t do any of those things.  He just pulled out his phone.  

“See ya,” he said to me without looking up and I walked away without saying goodbye.

****

“Hi.”

“Hello.”  I picked up my glass of water and took a sip, before turning back to the conversation.  I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, but he scooted into the booth next to me anyway.  I moved over to make room for him at the already crowded table, but instead of keeping a comfortable space between us, he scooted even closer.  Annoyed, I turned to say something to him when I realized that Zayn was also trying to squeeze in.  Harry shrugged apologetically.  

“Sorry,” he said quietly.  I looked away again, and tried to pretend that it wasn’t Harry who was pressed up against me.  

It wasn’t easy.  

I ignored his attempts at conversation, and eventually he gave up, but I could still feel him.  Every time he lifted his glass to his mouth.  When he reached across the table to shake someones hand.  When he laughed at something someone had said.  When he stretched out his legs, obviously cramped at the small table.  

I could feel the soft denim of his jeans pressed against my bare leg, and more than once his hand brushed against mine.

“You going to ignore me all night?  Because I was grumpy the other day?”  His face was close to my ear, and I could feel his breath against my face.  If I had turned my head at that moment, our lips probably would have touched.  

“No.”

“What’s the matter?  You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Nothing.”

He poked me in the ribs, which tickled and made me giggle.  “Lighten up.”

“You’re happy today.”

“Just looking forward to a few days off.  The show tonight was really great.”

“Good.”

“You still haven’t come.”

“How do you know?”

“I look for you.”

“I’m sure you have better things to do than look for me.”

“Why won’t you watch?  Isn’t it part of your job?  It should be a fire-able offense to not watch at least a couple of performances.”

“So you want me to be fired?”

“No!  I’m just saying, I’m surprised.”

“That I haven’t been fired?  It seems to me that if they haven’t fired me over all the other stuff, they surely wouldn’t fire me over this.”

“Come on,” he said more seriously.  “What’s wrong with you?”

I leaned my head against the wall.  “It’s just turning into one of those weeks.”

“One of what weeks?”

“The kind that is full of nothing but disappointments.”

“What’s disappointed you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

I did.  More than anything I did.  I wanted to go somewhere I could be alone, could have a drink.  Or several.  More than that, I wanted to be alone with him and I wanted him to tell me I was beautiful and that he loved me and…and, and, and.  I just shrugged at him.  

“At least we have a break to look forward to?”

“I guess.”

“The weather is supposed to be nice.  Maybe we’ll be able to spend some time on the beach.”

“Mmmhmm.”  I didn’t have a real response.  I had been looking forward to seeing Darcy, but she had called that morning to say a job had come up and she wouldn’t be able to make the trip.  And then my mom called to say that Lily had an ear infection and so they wouldn’t be coming either.  I had been looking forward to Houston, but now there was going to be no Lily or Darcy to distract me from Harry and Ana’s romantic reunion.

“And you’ll get to meet Ana.”

That was the end of my rope.  I blinked slowly and took a deep breath.  I was suddenly feeling very claustrophobic squeezed between Harry and the wall, with a dozen of my closest non-friends in front of me drinking and having a good time.  

Trapped.

I was trapped.  

And I was about to have a full blown panic attack.

“Let me out,” I said through clenched teeth as my heart started to race.  I felt light headed and dizzy.  

“What’s wrong,” he said, looking alarmed as I shoved him.

“Let…me…out.”  I pushed at him more forcefully and he scooted away with a bewildered look on his face.  As soon as I was on my feet, I headed straight for the exit.  

The heat of the New Orleans air was not exactly refreshing, but at least I could breath.   I breathed in deeply, trying not to layer my panic with more panic.  I was being ridiculous, I knew, but everything had piled up at once, and I just couldn’t push it away. 

I felt a hand on my back.  I turned quickly, startled, to find Harry standing there.  Of course he would be standing there.

I couldn’t get enough air to speak to him.  I wondered what I looked like, if he could see the panic written on my face.  I wondered what he thought of me and why he was always there when I needed to be rescued.

“Are you okay?”  He seemed worried but calm.  

I couldn’t get the words out, and I didn’t know if I was or not.  My only response was a nonsensical nod and shake of my head.  

“Hold on,” he said to me.  He pulled out his phone and I could hear him calling a car.  “We’ll get you back to the hotel.”

I didn’t want to be this way and I didn’t want him to see me this way.  There were so many ways I didn’t want him to see me, but somehow, he always did.

“You can go,” I told him at the door to my room.

“I’ll stay.  For a little while,” he added, clearly reading the look on my face that said him staying would go no where good.

“I don’t want you to see me this way,” I told him.  

“Just let me in.”

“I want to be alone,” I told him.

“No you don’t.”

“Please Harry.”

“I’m not leaving you until I know you’re alright.”  He walked past me and into the room, turning on a light and filling a glass of water at the sink.  

“You always see me at my worst and I hate it.”

“I’ve seen you at your best, too.  It all evens out.”  He tried to smile as he handed me the water, but I could see the worry underneath.  I hated that.

“I’m not sure I have a best,” I said.  “And seriously, how many times can you save me?”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s gotta be getting old.”  The panic had given way to embarrassment, and the embarrassment was quickly turning into anger.

“I said it’s not like that.”

“Whatever.”

He chose to ignore my attitude.  “What happened back there?”

I shrugged and sat down on the bed.  He stepped toward the bed, then backed up again and sank into the chair.  “I don’t know.  It just suddenly became too much.”

“What became too much?”

“All of it.  Everything.”

“Everything,” he repeated.  “Is it better now?”

“Yeah.”  I could still feel the aftereffects, the shakiness inside, but the panic had subsided.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I just felt trapped.”

“Trapped in the restaurant?”

I shrugged again and then flopped backwards on the bed.  “I feel trapped everywhere, all the time.”   Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get Harry out of my mind.  No matter how I pretended that I wanted to be his friend, it was a lie.  And no matter how many times I told myself I was over it, over him, it was a lie.  I had no distractions.  There was nothing to take my mind off of it, there was no substance to numb it.  It was a particular kind of agony, but I enjoyed it in a sick way, as if it was my due punishment.  

I curled up in a ball on the bed, making myself small, wishing I could disappear.  I could see where this was going.  I could see what I was doing, what would happen, how I was pulling him in and I didn’t like it but I couldn’t stop.  

“Georgia,” he said.  He stood up from the chair and squatted down so that he was at eye level with me.  He pushed the hair away from my face.  “Please tell me how I can help you.”

“You can’t.  It’s too late.”

He looked alarmed at my answer, and it made me laugh.  “I don’t mean it like that.  I just mean….”  I didn’t want to say what I needed to say.  And at the same time, I felt compelled to say it.  “I thought I could do this, but it is too hard.”

“What’s too hard?” His voice was low, soft, worried.  

I was about to out myself as a coward, as pathetic, as a grown woman pining over a boy like a lovesick teenager, once again—a boy who didn’t want me.  But the promise of relief, of getting out from under the pressure was too enticing.  I looked at him, looking at me and wondered what would happen next.  If what I said would have any bearing on anything, what path it would send us on.  I flopped over on my back, unable to stand looking at his face.  I stared at the ceiling instead, and I started talking.

“I am tired of feeling everything.  For months, I have had to feel it all, and cope with it all, and push it all down every time it comes back up.  Maybe that’s stupid, but it’s not really something I’m used to.  I feel lonely and uncomfortable and sad all the time and I have nothing to dull it with.  Every day, every minute is a struggle to stay sane, sober, to be careful and cautious.  And to be okay and smile and go about my day and it is crushing sometimes, Harry.  It is hard.  I am lonely.  I am alone.  

“And this?  You and me?  This friend thing?  It’s too hard.  It’s too hard to work with you every day and smile and laugh and not care.  It’s too hard to touch you because I have to and not be able to touch you the way I want to.  I want to kiss you every time I look at you and….  I can’t look at you without feeling…things I don’t want to feel.  I know I said this is what I wanted—to be your friend—but I was wrong.  If this is all I get, I don’t want it.  I’d rather not know you at all.”  

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sit back on his heels then, his face unreadable.  The silence was mortifying and I screwed my eyes shut.

“I wish I had known how you really felt.  Sooner,” he finally said.  I realized I had been holding my breath.  

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

I heard him stand, heard his footsteps as he walked away.  Leaving.  

I rolled over and stared out of the window at the starry night and I felt cold.  Numb.  Empty.  Alone.  It was no less than I deserved.  

And then.  

I heard the individual thumps of his shoes as they fell to the floor, and the rustle of his shirt as he unbuttoned it.  

I felt the bed dip as he climbed in next to me.

I felt the pressure of his body as he curled himself around me and the weight of his arm as it wrapped around my waist and he pulled me close against him.  

I felt his warm breath against my neck.

“What are you doing?” I whispered the words in the dark, unsure if they made any sound at all.  

“Staying,” he said.  “I’m staying.” 


	22. Houston

They say that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.  

They say that you reap what you sow.

Karma, if you will.

Those were my first thoughts as I opened my eyes into the gray light of the cloudy morning.  Those were my thoughts as I stared at Harry’s bare chest, his t-shirt having been shed at some point in the night.  Those were my thoughts as I put my lips on the words he had marked himself with for me.   

And now we had another secret to add to the list.

“Morning,” he said.

I felt my face burn, embarrassed that he was awake to feel my lips against his skin.  

“A storm’s coming,” he said against my forehead.  

Seemed fitting.

Our phones both pinged within seconds of each other and he stretched to grab his phone from the nightstand as I rolled away from him.

“Our flights have been cancelled,” he told me.  “But they’ve booked a private plane.  It leaves in two hours.  We all need to be on it.”

I tensed, ready to get out of the bed, but he grabbed my hip and pulled me closer.  “Including you,” he said.  Then, after a pause, “I’ve been practicing my mind reading.”

I didn’t say anything.  I didn’t trust my mouth to not betray me with all of the words that were sitting on the tip of my tongue.

“It was a joke,” he said softly.  “Obviously not a very good one.”

I stared out of the window at the gathering clouds, wondering what the best thing to say would be.  I examined my options, and I didn’t like any of them.  My instinct was to be nasty, ugly, hurtful in an effort to push him away and make myself seem less foolish and needy.  But to what end?  It was already obvious that I was—foolish and needy and pining after someone I couldn’t have.  

I had so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask, and now I felt rushed.  With the timer set I felt the regret of so many wasted hours.  Silence that could have been filled with something.  With confessions, explanations, apologies.  Something.

As I felt him shift beside me, roll over on his side again, I thought about her, about Ana, and wondered how she would feel to know he had spent the night with me, that he had slept with his face pressed into my neck, his arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close to him.  I wondered if he would tell her.  I wondered if she would see it on his face, or if there would be some trace of me left behind that she would notice.  If she would question him, and accuse him.  

Her name was there, bubbling to the surface, and I bit my lip, trying to keep her away.  I didn’t want to bring her up here, in this space.  I didn’t want to share him with her, not in these last minutes I had with him.  I would pay my dues later.

He squeezed my hip.  “Hey, are you okay?”

_No.  Definitely not._

I turned my head, looking over my shoulder and back at him.  I smiled.  “Yeah.”

The way his face relaxed and he smiled at me made the lie worth it.

“When do we have to be at the airport?”

“About an hour,” he said.  

“The weather is really so bad that they are cancelling flights?”

“Just telling you what they told us.”

“I guess we should get ready then.”

“I’m a little afraid to let go of you right now.  I feel like you’re going to disappear,” he said against my shoulder.  

“I won’t,” I told him.  It wasn’t a lie.  But only because I wasn’t actually capable of disappearing into thin air.

****

After a bumpy, terrifying ride to Houston, we all disembarked with our nerves barely intact.  I had wanted to talk to him, but the small crowded plane, and the general silence of unease made that impossible.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the worst flight I’ve ever been on,” Harry said as he pulled his bag over his shoulder, and then lifted mine to put on his other shoulder.

“I can get that,” I said into the wind, but he just turned and kept walking.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked with the others toward the vans that were waiting for us on the tarmac.  Then he stopped and turned, the smile wide on his face.

The sky above us was dark.

Ominous.

Threatening.

“What?” I asked him.

“Ana’s just landed.  Let’s go get her,” he said to me as he started off in the direction we came.

I stood there, dumbfounded, unsure if I had heard him correctly.  “Huh?”

“Come on, Ana’s just arrived.  I told her I’d come get her.”

“You want me to come?”  It didn’t make sense.

“Sure,” he said.  He looked at me, puzzled.  “Why not?”

 _Maybe for a thousand reasons, not the least of which is that I’m still madly in love with you?_ “I can’t,” I said flatly.  “I’ve got work to do.”

“I’m sure it can wait.”

“It can’t.”

“I want you to meet her,” he said.  

“I know.  I will.  But not right now.”  I held out my hand for my bag, and he looked at me.  Thunder rolled and we both looked at the sky.  “You should go.  Let me have my bag.”

“Fine,” he said, pulling it off his shoulder and holding it out to me.  His eyes were narrow and the smile had left his face.  “See you later, then.”  

He turned and walked toward the terminal, his security guard in tow, and I watched the way he moved, the way the wind blew his hair and his shirt. 

I felt an emptiness at his absence, a pang of regret as he walked away from me.  The same way I always did, the same way I would forever.

****

“Georgia, I want you to meet Ana,” I heard Harry say as he walked up behind me.   

“I know,” I replied.  “I will.”  I wasn’t really looking forward to it.

“No, I mean now,” he said, and I turned to face him.  He was grinning from ear to ear, his arm slung easily around Ana’s shoulders.  

“Georgia,” Ana said with a smooth voice and a lovely accent that I couldn’t quite place.  She was beautiful.  More beautiful than her pictures.  Before I could respond, she had stepped away from Harry and was embracing me warmly, as if we were old friends.  “I’m so glad to finally meet you.   Harry has told me so much about you,” she said as she finally pulled away.

I considered her tone, searching for some hint of sarcasm or hostility and could find none.  The smile on her face betrayed none either.  

“Has he?”  I looked at him, and noticed that he was suddenly looking quite uncomfortable.  I wondered what exactly he had said.  

“I’m just so glad to finally meet you.  I feel like we have so much to talk about.”

“We do?”  I was dumbfounded to say the least.  

“I have a lot of ideas I want to run by you.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Ideas?”  I couldn’t begin to imagine what sorts of ideas she had in mind. 

“Clothes, new looks, that sort of thing,” she clarified.

“Because she’s a model,” Harry added.

“I know that,” I said flatly.  He shrugged awkwardly and I was acutely aware of the fact that this was not going as he had expected.  What exactly he did think was going to happen was beyond me.  How could this have been anything other than awkward?  “Listen, we’re really busy right now, but maybe we can talk later,” I said, hoping to be vague enough that’s she’d go away and we’d never have to talk again.

“I told Ana you were going to the show tonight, and that she could sit with you,” he told me.  

“What?  I never said I was going to the show tonight.”

“Please, Georgia?  I would really love it,” Ana said.  Her blue eyes sparkled, actually sparkled.

“So would I,” Harry said quietly.

I looked between Ana and Harry’s expectant faces, wondering if I had gone completely crazy.  “Fine.”  They both smiled widely.  “But I won’t be able to if you guys don’t get dressed, Harry.”  

“I’ll leave you two to it, then.  Come find me when you’re done Georgia?  So I’ll know where to go?”

“Uh, okay.  Sure.”  I stared at her back as she walked away, noticed her perfect gait, the way her hips moved easily, her long neck left bare by her short pixie haircut.  

_What.  The.  Fuck._

“What do you think?”

“Of what?”  I swung back to face Harry, who was pulling a shirt over his head.

“Of Ana.”

“I don’t know her,” I said tersely.  I was not going to have this conversation.  

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”  The last thing I wanted to do was talk about his girlfriend while he undressed in front of me.  I caught myself staring, and looked away quickly.  

I felt nervous laughter well up inside of me, and couldn’t prevent it from escaping.  

“What’s so funny.”

“Nothing.”

He frowned at me.  “You’ll go to the show?  With Ana?  I don’t want her to be alone.”

How sweet of him.

“I really want you two to spend some time together,” he insisted.

Did he expect that we would be the best of friends?  I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but the ex and the current were not going to be the best of friends.  Still, what could I say?  I had run out of excuses long ago.  Might as well get it over with.

“Yeah.  Fine.  I’ll go.”

“And will you come out with us after?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

He pouted.  

“Harry.  Don’t look at me like that.  I’m sure she’s a nice girl.  But please don’t expect that we’re all going to be best friends.”  I tugged on his shirt and tried to appraise his look as I would any other client.  I had been practicing for months now, though, and it wasn’t getting any easier.  I would never be able to look at him objectively again, I was sure.

“But why not?  I think you’ll really like her.”

“Because.  That’s not the way the world works,” I told him.  

“I told her that I spent the night with you,” he blurted out to the top of my head.

“What?!”  I felt my stomach drop.  “Why would you do that?”

“I tell her a lot,” he said with a shrug as I stared at him.  “Sorry.  I just thought you should know.  In case she says anything.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around why he would tell her something like that, much less why she would bring it up to me.  None of it made any sense, and, why would she seem so happy to to meet me, when I had spent the night with her boyfriend.  And I remembered, with a nauseating roll of my stomach that he had also told her about the night on the balcony at the beginning of the tour.  

“What did she say?”  I had to ask.  I had to at least know what I might be facing when she and I were alone.

He didn’t quite meet my eye and pulled at the sleeve of his shirt instead.  “She said it was unfair.”

“Oh?”  Unfair how, I wondered.  Unfair to whom?  

“She said that I need to be more careful.”  

She wasn’t wrong.  “Did you tell her that you were just worried that I’d off myself?”

He looked at me then, his eyebrows drawn together.  “No!”

“Well, isn’t that what it was?”

“Stop.”

“You’ve got to go,” I told him.  

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear any more about it.”  Not if I had to stand beside her for the next two hours.

“Go, Harry,” I said shoving him in the direction of the door.  “Just go.”

****

I stood silently next to Ana, close to the stage, and I watched as they moved.  I felt the energy in their performance. I felt the excitement of the girls in the crowd as they screamed and sang along and watched every moment as if their lives depended on it.  

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.  I felt it too, the pull of them, the pull of Harry.  I felt the excited beat of my heart when he waved at us or winked in our direction, pulled along in the current of the performance.  It was easy, for those moments, to forget.  

Harry walked past us, smiling down before walking down the stage as the next song began, and I was sorry I hadn’t taken the opportunity to watch until today.  Sorry that I had to share this experience while Ana stood beside me.

“This is my favorite,” she said as the chords began to play.  I had been avoiding their album like the plague, but it didn’t take more than a few notes to play before I recognized it.  “It’s just so romantic,” she said.  

“I’m not sure I would call it that,” I said back to her, wondering what exactly it was she was thinking, wondering what she really knew about me, about us.  How she could know that I slept with Harry last night, and was so friendly to me today.  It made no sense.  Baffled, I turned back to the stage and I looked up to see Louis giving me a random thumbs up.  “Glad you came,” he mouthed as Harry began to sing from across the stage.  

“I just love it.  It’s so _perfect_ ,” Ana gushed beside me.

I rolled my eyes, but was glad that she wasn’t looking at me.  

She said something else, but between her accent, and the music, and the rage that was boiling inside of me, I didn’t hear what she said and I didn’t care.

I was listening to the song, to the music, to the words that were coming from his mouth.

It sounded different.  Different than that night in London, different than it did on the demo I brought back to New York that I couldn’t even listen to.  It was more serious, more meaningful.  It was finished in a way it hadn’t been before.  

It was perfect.  

The sort of song you can feel inside of you.  The sort of song that millions of people would relate to and understand.  The sort of song that girls would cry over and boys would wish they had written.  It was heartbreaking and nostalgic and it told a story that I knew too well.  

I listened, stunned, hurt, aching, until the song was over.  He was looking in our direction, his face seriously and thoughtful.  Ana with her perfect little haircut was waving and wiping the tears from her cheeks.  

And I couldn’t stand it.

It was enough.

Too much.

I couldn’t look at him as the crowd cheered for them, and without a word to Ana, I pushed through the doors and walked quickly through the back of the stage, hoping I could disappear before he noticed.   

“Hey!  Georgia, wait.  Georgia!”  He was moving quickly, agitated, trying to get my attention as I wound my way through the clutter of things and people.  I knew he couldn’t follow me for long.  He needed to be back on the stage in a matter of seconds.  If I could just get to the door.  

“Georgia!” He called to me, but I heard someone intercept him and force him back to the stage.  

Perfect, just a few more steps and…

“Georgia!  Where are you going?”  It was Louis, he had grab my hand as I walked past, stopping me in my tracks.  I forced myself to hold it together, just a little while longer.  “What’s the matter?” He asked me, the smile dropping from his face.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”  I said the words through clenched teeth, trying to keep my breaths even.

He looked over his shoulder toward the stage.  “Meet me for a drink later?”

“That sounds perfect,” I said to him, because it did.  

“We’ve only got another 20 minutes.  Just find me after?”

“Sure.”

But as it turned out, Louis was the one who found me.  

I was already at the hotel bar.  

Already drinking.

Almost blissfully drunk.  

“Couldn’t wait for me?”  

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he said and ordered a drink.  “What the matter?  Why’d you storm out like that?”

“Cutting right to the chase, then?”  I swirled my gin in my glass, watching the ice clink against the sides.  It had been a long time since I’d had a real drink, something more than a glass of wine.  I was on my third glass of gin when Louis sat down next to me.  “Because I’m so pathetic, that’s why,” I said, surprised at how loose my tongue already was.  

“You’re hardly pathetic,” he answered.  

“Oh, no, I”m not pathetic at all.”  I rolled my eyes and finished the rest of my drink in one swallow.  “I’m just sitting around all love sick over some boy while he doesn’t have the slightest interest in me anymore.”

“What?”

I ordered another drink, and continued on:  “I mean, he went on and on about how much he loved me, and then, when I finally decide to love him back, finally decide to tell him the truth, he can’t handle it.  I don’t really blame him for not wanting to deal because it is some fucked up shit that really points out exactly how far apart we are.  But, the fact that he moved on so quickly—”

“Moved on?”

“Moved on SO quickly to someone else, that’s hard enough to have to face, but the fact that I have to deal with it every day, and the fact that she is here now, in my face, going on about how great Harry is, and how romantic the song is, and the way he expects me to stand there next to her while he sings it, well, fuck him too, because obviously he is looking for some sort of sick fucking payback.  As if just having to see him every day isn’t enough.  He wants to go and write a fucking song about it and sing it to billions of people and make me sit there with her while he does it.”

“Georgia….”

“I mean, this morning I wake up with him curled up around me, and tonight, I’m watching while he sings love songs to his girlfriend.”

“His girlfriend?!  I don’t think—”  Louis wasn’t able to finish his thought before we were interrupted.

“So you’ll drink with him, but not with me?”  Harry’s words were accusatory, sharp.  

“Speak of the fucking devil.”

“Guys,” Louis interjected, but it did no good.  

Our storm had come; this was it.  I could feel the tension crackling.  This was karma’s pendulum swinging back again, and it was going to hit someone right in the face like a wrecking ball bent on destruction.  

“What about this is a controlled circumstance?  You won’t have one glass of wine with me at dinner, but you’ll get wasted with Louis at a shitty hotel bar?”  His voice was low.  He was trying hard to keep from drawing attention to us.  We had some privacy, but things were far from private.  Anything that happened tonight would show up tomorrow in pictures on someone’s twitter feed.  If it even took that long.  

“You know fucking well why dinner at a romantic restaurant is not an appropriate venue for me to be drinking.”

“Right, because I can’t control myself?  Or maybe it’s the other way around?”

“That’s low, Harry.”  Even if it was true.

“You know what’s low?  The way you keep pulling me in and pushing me away.  That’s what’s low.  The way you open up to me and then try to push me off a cliff.  The way you avoid me and the way you say you want me, you need me, but you don’t make good on it.  You don’t let me give myself to you.”

“Because that’s not the way I want it, in case you haven’t figured that out.”

“But, how do you want it?  I mean, I can’t fucking figure it out.  No matter how I try, it isn’t the right thing!”  His voice was increasing in volume as the words came out, and I glanced nervously at the gathering crowd.  I was suddenly aware of the murmur, the pulse of activity around us.  

“Guys, not to interrupt,” Louis said, doing just that.  “But they’re watching,” he said, cutting his eyes to the left of us, where I could see a small crowd forming at the entrance to the bar.

“Oh fuck off,” Harry said to him.  Louis raised his eyebrows and stood up to leave.  

“It’s your life, mate, but you might want to keep it down.”  He gave us a look and walked away.  

I lowered my voice and spoke to Harry, who had to move closer to hear me.  “I just don’t understand how many times you’re going to make me point out just how badly I need you before you just let me go.”

“Let you go?”  

I rolled my eyes at him.  “Well, yes, but you’ve already done that, I suppose.  Speaking of…where’s Ana?”

“She’s dancing with her girlfriend,” he said dismissively.  “What does it matter?”  

“I don’t know what kind of games you are playing, but I can’t deal with it.  So, I hope you’re happy.  I cannot deal with this back and forth.  I cannot be your friend.  I cannot work with you or for you.  I cannot do any of this.  I cannot sit here and spend the night with you one night, and then have go off with another girl like I mean nothing,” I said, breathless, the words losing their force as they left my mouth, my chest feeling like it was caving in.

“This again?”  He said.  “Haven’t we been over this?  That’s not what I do.  I’m not going home with a different girl every night.  You know that.”

“No, you know that’s not what I mean.”  

I looked up at him, because I had to, because I needed him to understand, even if it was humiliating.  

I didn’t understand the look on his face.  He was staring at me, his eyes wide, his hand in his hair, frozen.  

“I don’t understand.”  His voice was low.  His confusion was obvious.  

I turned back to my drink.  

“Georgia.”  A whisper, a plea.  

“I told you last night, Harry.  I told you I couldn’t do this anymore, and I mean it.  I cannot.”

I took another swallow of my gin, hoping that it would make the lump in my throat disappear.

“Hey guys.”  I heard the unmistakable voice of Ana behind us.  Harry and I both turned at the same time.  “What’s wrong?” She said suddenly, a frown on her lips.  “Am I interrupting?”

I said “no” at the same time Harry said “yes.”

“That’s hardly a way to treat your guest.”  I glared at Harry, and then turned and tried to muster a smile for Ana.  It wasn’t her fault, after all.  “I was just leaving.  I’m sure you two would like some privacy.”  As I was forcing my mouth to obey against it’s will, a dark haired girl showed up beside Ana and wrapped a tan arm around Ana’s slender waist.  Ana, several inches taller than her, bent her head slightly to kiss her on the lips.  

“We’re about to go, too,” she said, turning back to face me with a beaming smile on her face, “I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Corrinne.  She just got in.”

“Your girlfriend,” I said, trying to process what I was seeing, and as I did, it seemed as though my heart stopped beating.

I could see Harry staring at me out of the corner of his eye, watching me, his annoyance at the interruption plain.  

“It-It’s nice to meet you,” I said to her, as I watched these two girls in front of me, obviously in love.  

I had made a huge mistake.  A monstrous one.  I could see that now, suddenly and clearly, even through the haze of the gin.  My heart, moments ago almost silent, started to thump wildly as I cataloged all of the mistakes I had made over the last few months, every action I had misinterpreted, and though it was maddening, the truth made more sense than the bullshit lie I had made up in my head.

“Anyway, hopefully we can catch up later.  We are so exhausted, so we’re going to go to bed.”  They both kissed Harry on the cheek and smiled at me before they made their way out of the bar.  

I made to follow them, desperate to escape, but Harry grabbed my hand and pulled me back.  I couldn’t look at him.  I could feel the flush of my face, the rapid beat of my pulse.  

“Hey,” Harry said to me once they had left.  

“I have to go.”

“What’s wrong?  You’re shaking again.”  He pulled me out of the bar, out of the reach of the eyes of the growing crowd.  “And your pulse, it’s going a mile a minute.”  Of course he could feel it, the way his thumb was pressed against the inside of my wrist.  

“I know.”  I swallowed the rest of my drink, hoping it would calm me.  “Please let me go.”  He dropped my hand and I let it flop limply against my thigh.  

“I’m making you that miserable, then?”

“No.  It’s not that.  You aren’t.”  My words were choppy, my explanation unfocused.  “Its just…I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

“A mistake?  What mistake?”

I had made a million mistakes in my years. This wasn’t the worst, but it was the dumbest, the most pointless.  I wanted to laugh and to cry and to scream all at once.  “I thought….  You and….  I thought that….” I couldn’t find the right words; I couldn’t force it out of my mouth without sounding like an idiot.  “Do you remember, when you texted me, back in February?  And you said you were sorry—

“And that I couldn’t do this anymore.”  

I nodded.  

“Yes.”  The uncomfortable look of painful remembrance was there in his eyes.  “I was sorry for the way I acted.  I couldn’t stand being without you.  But…you never wrote back.  I waited, and you never wrote back.”

“I thought you were saying goodbye.  It was right after the story broke and I thought you were saying goodbye.”

“Story?  What story?”  He looked at me as I struggled with what to say, the realization suddenly dawning, horror plain on his face.  “No.  No, no, no.  Georgia, no.  Ana and I?  Are you kidding me?”  He was incredulous.

“I…, no.”  I shrugged.  Helpless.  Foolish.

“It was—I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.”

“And you thought, after all of what happened last year, that I would just forget you?  Move on?  Abandon you because I didn’t like what you had to say?”

“Is that surprising?”

“And what?  You think that I make a habit of kissing other girls, spending the night with them when I have a girlfriend?  You think I’d do that to her?  To you, even?  You think you’d come second?   _Ever_?”  His voice was rising again, and I could see the way his jaw was clenched, the muscle working under the skin.  

“It’s complicated,” I started.

“Why won’t you trust me!  Goddammit, Georgia!  Is that why you freaked out that night I kissed you?  Why you were so against meeting her?  Fuck.”  He stopped, staring at me, his mouth hanging open in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.  “And why you wanted to be friends?  Fucking friends?”

“You went along with that easily enough.”

“You thought that was easy?  It killed me.  Like it always kills me.  Like you always kill me.”

Hearing him acknowledge how much I had hurt him, how much I kept hurting him made me feel weak, and I had to lean against the wall to keep from collapsing to the floor.

“You’re the one who asked me to leave your house when I told you the truth.”  

“I needed some time.  I thought you’d understand that.  And you just went back to New York, with nothing.  You didn’t call, you didn’t show up for work.  You hired someone else to do your job.  You disappeared.  You ignored everyone.  And I did try and contact you, but you didn’t respond.  I didn’t know what to do.  I’m sorry for that.”

“I thought—”

“You thought that I’d given up on you.”

He was right.

“Yes.”

“I guess I’ve proven your point then?  That I’m too immature, too inexperienced?  Was I just supposed to smile and nod at what you told me?  I needed time to process it.  But I also needed you.  I needed you to not run away.  I needed you to help me.”

“I know.”  I knew.  I knew I shouldn’t have gotten on that plane.  I knew I should have called him, insisted on seeing him, reached out to him, something.  But I didn’t.  I had gone in there expecting him to hate me, and, intent on assuming the outcome, I had made it come true.

“I’m not saying I handled it properly or well, or at all, obviously, but jesus.  I thought we were in it together, and you just disappear.  I can’t win if you keep making sure I’m going to lose.”

“I know.”

“And is that what you want?  You want me to lose?  You want me to give up?  Because that’s where I am.  I wasn’t ready to give up, I don’t want to give up, but I can’t keep doing this.  If you always expect the worst of me, well, I can’t compete with that.”

“I understand.”

He looked at me then, “You understand?  That’s it?  You fucking understand?”

“Harry.”

“You know, it’s ironic, this bullshit we keep going through.  You told me—god, it seems like a lifetime ago—that I was just a kid, a child.  You wrote me off before you even gave me a chance.  Because you thought I was too young.  That you were the adult and you knew best.  But you’re the one who can’t handle this.   _You_.  I have been fighting for you, and for us, this whole time, and you are heading me off at each pass.  You are discounting it before it even happens.  You are the one fucking around.  And I am not the child.  Maybe I’m a fool for falling in love with you.  Maybe I don’t have the experience to know exactly what I’m doing, but I’m not a child and I’m not afraid of loving you.  Even with everything you’ve said and done, everything you’ve been through.  Everything I’ve watched you go through.  I wasn’t afraid of loving you.  

“You’ve forced us into this place, Georgia.  You’re too scared and it’s ruined everything.  You are too afraid to see the good.  You think you know best because you’ve had more experience than me, but the way I see it, you don’t know anything at all, do you?  All you know is what it’s like to be hurt and how to hurt, and so you spend your entire life trying to avoid any more hurt.  If you aren’t running away, you push and push and push until you get the outcome you want. So you can say I told you so?  Is that why?  You push me away every chance you get.  You push so hard, push me until I can hardly stand it, until I don’t know which way is up, so you can get what you want?  So you can have proof that no one cares about you?  Is that what you’re doing?  How has that worked out for you?  Do you feel happy?  Do you feel relieved now?  Have you won?  Have you gotten what you wanted?”

“No…I mean…I don’t….”  It didn’t matter what I had to say.  He wasn’t listening.  I could see the way he was hunched into himself, subconsciously trying to protect himself, one hand gripping his leg, the other nervously plowing through his hair.  

“What do you really want? Do you even know?  Because I cannot keep up with this any more.  You can’t go running off at every little miscommunication.  You can’t keep waiting for me to fuck up and using it as an excuse to disappear.  I’m completely and totally exhausted, and I can’t….”  He trailed off, seconds stretching into an eternity.  

I needed him to finish.  I needed to know.  “Can’t what?” I whispered.  

“Even after all of that, I want you more than anything.”  He let out a bitter, caustic laugh.  “But I can’t wait anymore.  I can’t… _hope_ anymore,” he said, his voice breaking.

“Harry,” I said, the air leaving me, my lungs aching and hollow.  

“I’ve got to go.” He stood up straight and looked at me.  “I _have_ to,” he said as if he was trying to convince himself.  “I can’t always be the one staying, while you run away every chance you get.  So I’ll give you what you want, love.”  He pulled his lip between his teeth as his chin started to quiver, and I watched as a shaking hand reached toward me, felt the warmth of his palm on my cheek as he brushed a tear away with his thumb.  “I give up.  Okay?  I’m giving up.”  

“Harry,” I said and stepped toward him, but he stepped back at the same time, let his hand drop.  

“I give up,” he whispered.

And then he turned and walked away.


	23. A Hurricane

The next day dawned more dreary than the last.

The wind had picked up, the rain torrential.

A hurricane had come, changing course in the night.

And not just metaphorically.

I stood under the overhang of the hotel, my loose cardigan no match for the winds, the spray from the downpour misting my hair, my face, my bag.  I should have waited inside, but I didn’t want to sit there and chance running into someone while I waited for the car.

While I waited for the car that would take me away.  That would take me to my vacation destination.  

Where I would be alone.  

In a house that would probably get swept out to sea by a raging ocean.

If I was lucky.

But lucky, I was not.  

I shivered and pushed my windblown hair out of my face.  I should have put it in a ponytail.  

If I had put it in a ponytail, I would have seen him coming.  My wild hair would not have covered my face, would not have obscured my view.  I would have been able to slip out of his path, unseen, but it was too late for that.  I watched as he ran the last few steps through the parking lot, drenched.  

He hadn’t seen me either.  

It was apparent in the way he stopped abruptly a few feet from me.  

“Where are you going?”  

“Galveston.”

“In this?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

I don’t know what made me say it, but I did: “Come with me?”

“What?”

I could see from the look on his face that the invitation was a mistake.  I fumbled to find some way to take it back, to correct it.  But there were so many mistakes, so much lost time, that I I decided to take this chance.  I needed to take this chance.

I took a step toward him.  

Fuck it.  What did I have to lose when I had already lost everything else?

“Come to Galveston with me.”  My voice was shaking.  I felt excited as the sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through my body.  My skin tingled and my fingertips were cold.  

“Georgia.”  It was only my name, but he said it in a way that meant so much more.  It held so much hurt, disappointment, pain.

He was saying no.  

He was saying that he meant what he said the night before: that he was done, that he was giving up.   

He was saying “how dare you?”  

He was saying he wasn’t going to fall for it again.  

I was panicking; I couldn’t stop myself.  I would beg if I had to.  “Please?”

He wiped the dripping hair from his forehead and looked away.  He shook his head slowly and turned back to face me.  

“No.”

My eyes burned, hot tears gathering against my will.  “I’m so sorry, Harry, please—.”

He looked at me, cutting me off with no more than a look.

“Right.  Okay.”  I couldn’t catch my breath.

“But….”

I can’t tell you how my stomach jumped at that, how a flutter of hope bloomed in my chest, for those brief seconds no matter how fucking stupid it was.

“Be safe, okay?  Call—call someone if you need anything.”

I nodded, crushed, because there was nothing left to do.  I stood still, staring into the driving rain, holding my breath as I heard the lobby doors slide open.

“Bye, Georgia,” he said to my back.  

I shivered again as a cold burst of air escaped before the doors closed behind him, and I knew that it was done.


	24. Chapter 24

“What do you think?”  I eyed the dress, wondering if it was right, and feeling more nervous than I had in a long time.

“I love it.  It’s perfect.”  Ana spun around, twisting her head to look at the back in the mirror.  

“What’s it for?”  I had my suspicions, hence the nervousness, but I tried to play it cool.

She looked down at me from the stool on which she was standing.  “I think I’m going to wear it tomorrow night.”  She said it casually, without a hint of hesitation, and I felt her eyes on me, watching my reaction.

“Ah,” I said noncommittally, and bent to examine the hem that fell mid thigh on her.  It would have hit me at the knee, and I felt a familiar stab of envy over her height, grace, long legs.  I smiled to myself, thinking about how, at one point, I had harbored so much resentment toward her.  The only thing I envied her now, and it was no secret, were her long legs.  “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d kill you for these legs.”  

“You know I’d give them to you happily if I could.”  

“If only it were that easy.  Are you happy with it, or do you want me to take it in a little more?  It’s loose, but it’s supposed to be.”

“No, it’s perfect.  I don’t want to be tied up.  I need to be able to move in it.”  

“Ok.  Then take it off before it gets wrinkled, then, and I’ll have it pressed.”  

She slipped out of the dress and pulled on her t-shirt and jeans, then sat cross-legged on the sofa.  “Have you seen this?”

“Seen what?”

She looked up and rolled her eyes at me.  “Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room, or what?”

“There is no elephant.”

“Right.  No elephant at all.  Which is why you’re lying to me about reading this article, and why you’re pretending you don’t know where I’m going tomorrow night.”

I knew exactly where she was going.   

And I had read the article, practically memorized it.  

“I know you got an invitation.”  When she got no response from me, she continued.  “It’s been almost 2 years, Georgia.”

In fact, it had been 22 months and 17 days.

"It’s their last show as a group for the foreseeable future, if not forever.”

It it had been 22 months and 17 days since I had talked to him, since I had last seen him.  

It had been 22 months and 17 days since I went straight to the airport soaked to the bone and cried in the bathroom as I shook from the cold for the better part of 12 hours, until the hurricane had passed and they let me get on a plane that would take me home.   

Which meant it had been 22 months and 17 days since he had given up on me.  

“So I’ve heard.”

“I know you don’t like for me to talk about him, and I think I’ve done pretty good on that, but this is different.  This is a big deal.  You’ve been invited, and you should go.”

“Practically anyone who has ever worked for them has been invited, Ana.”

“Practically no one got a personal invitation from Harry himself.  Don’t play dumb.  I saw the invitation at your apartment.  If he didn’t want you there, he wouldn’t have done that.  Trust me, I know.”

I hated that she had insider information, but I had grown to accept it.  I had learned not to ask about him; she had learned not to bring him up.  Even now, almost two years later, the thought of how things had gone made me cringe.  Ana, for her part, spent weeks apologizing for the misunderstanding, though it was no fault of hers.  I was sure she thought I was a complete idiot, so when she had called me only a few months after I had left Houston, I was more than a little surprised at being offered a job as her stylist.  

“At the very least, you should go to support Darcy.  She’s hit it out of the park this tour, and you should be there to celebrate her.”

Darcy had quickly stepped in for me and had done a better job, and seen more success, than I ever managed.  I was so happy for her and missed her dreadfully when she was gone, which was often.

“I’m sure she’ll be too busy being adored to notice if I’m there.”

“So will Harry, I’m sure,” she said with a smirk.  “You’ve got no excuse.”

“Yes I do.”

“What is it then?”

None of them were things I could mention to her, nothing I wanted to say that might make it’s way back to him, innocently or not.  

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

****

I felt the first blooms of anxiety as I stepped into my dress and took a deep breath as Ana tugged at the zipper.  I felt a familiar fluttering in my stomach as I stepped into 6 inch heels that I was sure would lead to an embarrassing and ill timed face plant.  

I felt the shakiness of uncertainty as I sat next to my friends in the limo that would take us to the venue where we would watch as the band performed their last show.  I watched as everyone else sipped their champagne and felt a familiar, but distant, tug of desire for a sip of something to dull my nerves.

I teetered nervously in my ridiculous heels as we walked through the doors and into the crowd.  I said my hellos and my how-have-you-beens to friends that I hadn’t seen in a while, and I smiled and nodded as we exchanged our what-have-you-been-up-to stories until the lights dimmed and the guys took the stage.

I felt myself relax as they sang their songs and I watched them perform.  I was pulled into the atmosphere around me and forgot, for a while, the reasons I didn’t want to be here.  I forgot the way my heart still ached for him, forgot the way I avoided magazines and turned off the radio, forgot the way I missed him so badly.  Forgot the things that had led us to this place—those things I had learned to forgive myself for, but that still haunted me on lonely night in dark rooms.

Still.  

It was hard to not get caught up in the enthusiasm, and so I did, and I found myself singing along and moving with the beat with the crowd as we watched their last performance as a group.  And so for those minutes, I felt okay.

But when he moved closer to where we were standing, when he saw Ana, who was standing next to me, and winked at her, I felt it again, that jolt of nervous fear as he noticed me standing beside her.  He raised his eyebrows, a look of surprise on his face, and he hesitated.  I saw the hesitation; I felt it.  He stood there, still for seconds longer than he was supposed to before taking a step closer as if he had forgotten where he was, before Zayn called his name and he snapped back to attention.  He raised a hand in a small wave, and then turned and walked away to take his place on stage.  

I couldn’t read his reaction.  

And so, I felt shaky again, anticipation coursing through me, the adrenaline keeping me on alert.  

And before I could recover from that moment, the familiar chords of that familiar song started to play and his voice singing the haunting melody of the opening verse.  It seemed silly, really, that a song that had been written three years ago now, that I had heard so many times, could still get to me.  But it did.  It evoked those memories, the pain of it all, and tears sprang into my eyes.  I felt a hard lump in my throat and Ana grabbed my hand.  It was a show of support, but I also knew that she was preventing me from running.  I couldn’t blame her for her assumption, of course, but I had no inclination to run.  I wanted to listen this time.

And as the music ebbed and flowed and his voice along with it, I wondered if I imagined the emotion in his voice or if it was something that he had perfected long ago as part of his performance;  I wondered if he still felt anything when he sang the song, or if it had just become a part of his routine, words he hardly noticed anymore as they escaped his mouth.

They finished to a screaming ovation, bowed in unison one last time, stood as a group to take pictures on stage, one more time, and each of them offered their thanks in brief speeches.  

I stood still, suddenly alone, as they walked through the group of people closest to me.  I smiled at them as they greeted me with hugs and kisses and exclamations, but I couldn’t relax.  

It was a countdown to the real thing, to the one I had come to see, the one I also wanted most to avoid.  So, when I hugged Louis, and saw Harry standing behind him, smiling almost shyly, I was surprised at my reaction.

I was surprised that, in that moment when he was standing there, taking up the space that Louis had just left, when he stepped close and put his hand on my arm and kissed me on the cheek and said, “hello, love,” I felt nothing but relief.

Like I had been holding my breath for two years and I could finally breath again.

I smiled at him and said “Hello,” and I went willingly when he suggested that we go somewhere to talk.  There was no preamble, no polite small-talk.  Right to the point, just as always.  

As we escaped the crowd and stepped into the night, he grinned at me again.  “Would you like to walk?”

I kicked my foot out, indicating my inappropriate footwear.  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t make it very far.”

He raised his eyebrows in agreement.  “Not your typical choice,” he said.  “At least, not as I remember.”

“Definitely not my typical choice—not my choice at all.”

I followed him around the corner, where we found a couple of chairs ensconced against a wall in a pretty little courtyard.  I sank into the chair and kicked off my shoes, tucking my feet underneath of me, grateful to free my aching feet.  “Ana’s idea, no doubt?”  He nudged the shoes with the tip of his boot.

“Of course.”

“Where is Ana, anyway?”

“She slipped off while Niall was making his speech.”  I had been counting on her to remain by my side and run interference, but her flimsy excuses as she moved away from me once they had jumped off the stage was a tell tale sign that she was scheming.

“Sounds like her,” he said with a smirk.  “Always up to something.”

He sat back in his chair and smiled again and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You cut your hair.”  I started to reach my hand out touch it before remembering I shouldn’t.  “It’s different.”

He shook his hair out and frowned at me.  “It’s way too short.”

“It’ll grow back, but it does suit you.”

“Thanks.  You look good.  Happy.”  

“Thanks.”  Happy might be stretching it, but I was in a good place.  Even I could see that I no longer looked so exhausted; my clothes fit me instead of hanging off me and the color was back in my cheeks.  “You, too.”  

“Are we just going to compliment each other for the rest of the evening?” 

“We can, if you want.”  We both chuckled and then fell silent.  I pulled at a loose string on the hem of my dress.

“It’s good to see you,” I said to him.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“Well, it’s good to see you, too.”

“You don’t sound surprised at all.”

“I’m not.”  I blushed at that.  “I’m glad you came, Georgia.  I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I wasn’t either.”

“But you’re here now.”

“I am, yes.  It took some convincing.”

“What was it that finally convinced you?”

“I…,” I paused, searching for the right words, the right meaning.  I had promised myself that no matter what, tonight I wouldn’t hide.  I had already lost him.  Nothing I did would make it worse.  “Well, Ana, for one.”

He chuckled.  “Of course.”

“But not just that,” I added.

“No?”

“I was more afraid of not coming.  I was afraid if I didn’t come, I’d regret it forever, and I have enough regrets already.”

He nodded thoughtfully but I suddenly felt self-conscious about being so blunt.  

I smiled at him and pulled my legs out from under me, slipping my feet back into my shoes.

“Maybe we should go back. ” I told him.

“Why?”

“It’s a party in your honor.”

“This party isn’t for us.  It’s just another performance.  What are they going to do anyway?  Fire me?  Too late for that.”  He smiled at his lame joke.  

“What about the guys?”  

“They’re probably long gone.  It isn’t like we’re breaking up,” he said.  I watched his eyes narrow at the words that had come out of his mouth.  “I mean, the band is, but it isn’t like we’re done being friends.  I’ve spent 90% of my life with them for the last 5 years.  And I’ll see them all tomorrow anyway.  I’d rather catch up with you.  I don’t know when I’ll have another chance.”

I flopped back into my chair and stared at the stars through the slats in the pergola.  “So.  Catching up.  I think I heard you’re seeing someone?” I said it to the sky, wondering why I decided to put that bit of awkwardness on the chopping block.

“Nicole?  You really are out of touch, aren’t you?”

“I prefer it that way.”

“Nicole is old news.”

“What happened?”

“You know,” he said, nudging my knee with his his.  I didn’t know if it was an accident or not, but he left his leg resting against mine.

“No, I don’t.  I’m out of touch remember?”  

“She wasn’t you.”

“Oh.” _Shit_.  

“Did I make a mistake?  In Houston?”

My head shot up, unable to avoid making eye contact with him.  “Right to the point, then?” I bristled at his abruptness even though I expected it.

“Why not?”  He was right.  There was no point in pretending or in avoiding the conversation.  As he had said, we might never get another chance.

“No.  You didn’t make a mistake.”

“Are you sure?  Because I’m not.  Sometimes I think it was the right thing, and other times, I’m certain it was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I’m sure.”

“So you’re totally okay with the way things were?  They way they are now?”

“I didn’t say that.  But just because I don’t like the way things are doesn’t mean it wasn’t for the best.”

“I just…sometimes, I think that it was for the best and sometimes I’m not so sure.  I just feel so…lonely.”  He looked at me, I assumed for some sort of reassurance, but I had none to give.  The loneliness I felt where he was concerned had almost consumed me.

“Even when I shouldn’t,” he continued when I remained quiet.  “Even when I don’t have any reason to be.  I feel incomplete.  Like I’ve forgotten something but I can’t quite figure out what.  And then when I remember what it is that’s missing, that it’s you that’s missing, it feels so awful that I’m sure I screwed up.”

“You didn’t screw up.”  

“You aren’t making a convincing argument.”

“I’m not trying to.  Just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt, doesn’t still.”

“I hate that I did that.”

“I left you no choice, really.  I’m sorry I put you in that position.  That I turned you into someone you didn’t like.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic.  I was a bit dramatic.”

“We all were.”  We exchanged smiles, and I was glad that it was something we could smile at now, though I’d take so much of it back if I could.  

“So…. You miss me, too?”

I sighed, “Of course.”  

The look of relief on his face was palpable.  

“Did you really think it would be anything different?”  I leaned forward and cupped his face in my hands, glad for any excuse to touch him.  “The fact that you loved me once, even if it was short-lived in the grand scheme of things, helped me out of the mess I was in.  I’m not sure I would be here today, be anywhere at all, if you hadn’t loved me.”

I let the weight of that sink into the space around us, hoping he could understand my meaning.  It was something I had thought often but had never spoken to anyone, not even my closest confidants, not even in the darkest of my days.  He took my hands in his and I let go of his face.  He brushed his thumbs along the faded scars on my wrists thoughtfully, and I knew he grasped what I had said.

I pulled my hands away and sat back in my chair.  

“It’s for the best, Harry.  Even if it doesn’t always feel that way.  It was for the best.”

“Maybe you if you say it again, we’ll both believe it.”  He was hiding behind a joke, but his point wasn’t lost on me.

“It was for the best,” I repeated.  “Did that work?”

“What do you think?” He put his hand on my bare leg, his fingers splayed on my thigh.  His touch raised goosebumps on my skin the way it always had.  “I just wish I understood.”

“Understood what?”  Feeling his palm on my skin made it hard to concentrate, bringing to mind things I had put out of my head.

“Why.  I don’t understand why it didn’t work, why I wasn’t…enough.”  He was looking down, his thumb lightly brushing the inside of my leg, just above my knee.  I looked at the top of his head and I wanted to cry.

I put my hand over his and he looked up at me.  “It had nothing to do with you.  Nothing.”  The look on his face made it clear he didn’t believe me.  “I wasn’t ready, Harry.  I wanted to be, so I tried to force it, but I just wasn’t ready.  I wish I had a better explanation, but I don’t.”

“So it wasn’t real?  That was all just an act?”

“No!”  The force of my exclamation surprised us both.  “No.  I don’t mean—.”  What did I mean?  I didn’t mean I was forcing myself to love him.  That was far from accurate.  

I could see him struggling to keep his composure, struggling to have this conversation while keeping it light.  “The part where I loved you?  That wasn’t an act.  That wasn’t made up.  None of it was fake.  But it was the other stuff.  I wasn’t in a place where I could be vulnerable.  I wasn’t in a place where I could trust.  I wasn’t in a place where I could give a fair share without taking too much.”

He pulled his hand out from mine and sat up.  “And now?  Are you in a better place now?”

“I don’t know.”

“There are you!”  Darcy rounded the corner and we both turned to look at her.  “Ugh.  You two are the most serious people I know.  Lighten up already.  And come on, we’re moving this party.”

“I think we’re good here,” Harry said, obviously intent on finishing our conversation.  I was relieved, though, to have the interruption break the tension that was building between the two of us.

“Well, too bad, because we’re going to your place, and we need you to get in.”

“Your place?” I asked him.  

“It made sense,” he said with a shrug.

“It’s a fabulous place, George.  Wait til you see it.”

“Did you find them,” Ana said as she appeared beside Darcy.  “Ah, there you are.  Why so serious?” she asked with a playful frown.  “Corinne is holding a car for us, so come on.”

“I think maybe-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Ana said to me as Darcy yanked on Harry’s arm.  “You’re coming,” she said in my ear, before tugging me to my feet.

****

I wanted to ask so many questions but Harry was chatting with Ana and Darcy and Corinne in a comfortable, familiar way.  I felt like an outsider, so I just sat back and listened to them talk about things I didn’t have a part in anymore as the car wound through the streets of Harry’s new neighborhood.  I had made myself an outsider on purpose, but it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable to be out of the loop.  It also didn’t make the situation any less uncomfortable as we pulled up to the doors, and Ana and the others jumped out of the car and ran into the house.  Their needing Harry for a key was obviously a ruse as there were already several people inside.

I raised my eyebrows as I stepped out of the car behind him.  “Your friends let themselves in?”

“Apparently.  I mean, the boys have keys, and I told him we could head back here.”

“I had a feeling that the key thing wasn’t valid.”

He shrugged and smiled.  “I’ll show you around?  If you’d like?”

“Sure.”  

“Come on, then.”  We walked through a door into a wide foyer.  There were people milling about and music was playing.  “You want to kick off your shoes?”  

“God yes,” I said, happy to be rid of them.  The smooth stone floor was cool on my feet and I probably groaned in relief.  He smiled and I started to follow him through the rooms.  

“So, LA, huh?”  

“I guess Ana wasn’t joking when she said you two didn’t talk about me.”

“No, but does that mean you talk about me?”

He chuckled.  “Occasionally.  Nothing scandalous or anything.  Don’t worry.  She doesn’t share your secrets.”

“I don’t have any secrets anymore,” I told him.  “You know them all.”

“Do I?”  He raised his eyebrows, a glint of humor in his eyes.  

“Maybe not all of them,” I amended.  

He nodded as he pushed a door open at the end of the hallway.  “This is my favorite room in the house,” he told me as gestured for me to walk through.  

“It’s like a tree house,” I said to him, moving into the room.  The walls were basically glass and overlooked an expanse of greenery, with trees on all sides.  He pushed open the sliding glass doors to let in the night air.  It was peaceful and quiet here; we were far enough away from the other party goers that we couldn’t hear more than an errant shout from the lawn.  “This is amazing.  When did you move in?”

“A few weeks ago.  I’ve been looking for a while, but when we decided to go our separate ways I felt like LA was where I needed to be.”

“Makes sense.”

“I don’t know.  It’s kind of ridiculous.  I mostly stay in hotels when I come to town.  It’s weird being out here all alone in such a big house.”

I stared out of the window, every nerve ending aware that he was standing behind me.  “So, what do you use this room for?”  

“Writing mostly.  Relaxing.  Sleeping, if I actually stay here.”

“You have this whole house, but you do everything in this one room?  Surely you have a well appointed bedroom suite in here somewhere.”  I had noticed he hadn’t shown me any of those and wondered why—if it was on purpose.  And if it was on purpose, what the purpose was.  I wondered what the purpose was of bringing back here and if he even wanted me here.  

And I wondered how much longer I’d have access to Harry before things went back to the way they had been for so long.  

Separate.  

Apart.  

Strangers.

I didn’t want to waste these last moments.  I didn’t want to leave not knowing if he would ever really forgive me, or if we’d ever really heal.  

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to be friends?” I asked him.  

He shrugged and moved away from me, sitting down on the modern leather sofa and crossing his legs.  “I don’t know.  Do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”  I couldn’t decipher his tone, but I remembered the look on his face in that locker room two years ago when I insisted I just wanted to be friends, and how that had turned out.  “Look.  Don’t make us into liars,” he said to me, his voice not quite angry, but edgy.  “Not again.”

“What?”

“Liars.  Don’t lie to me, please.  Whatever you say, tell me the truth.  I’m not a liar.  I don’t want to be one.”

“Yes, I seem to remember a note expressing a similar sentiment.”  

His face colored deeply as he surely remembered the crumpled piece of paper he had sent in the mail, the lyrics to Our Little Secret, a page ripped from his notebook, the words “thanks for making me a liar” scrawled angrily across the page in red ink.

He leaned forward and rubbed his face with both of his hands, as if he could erase the flush of his skin.  “God,” he moaned.  “I was so drunk when I did that.  I’m sorry.”

“It could have been worse,” I told him.  “I probably deserved worse.”

“It was so childish,” he added.  “I posted it one night on the way home from a pub.  The next morning when I remembered, I went and tried to take it back, but apparently it is frowned upon to break into mailboxes.”

“It was a bit dramatic.  I’ll give you that.  But not the worst thing someone’s done to me.  I’ve suffered through worse, that’s for sure.”

We were silent then.  I was still at the window, staring into the night, thinking how weird it was to be here, in Harry’s house.  So much different than before.  I heard him stand again and walk toward me.  I could feel him next to me.  

“You kept using the past tense before.”

“Hmm?” I said, turning to him, not sure what he meant.

“Past tense.  I ‘loved you once.’  You ‘loved me,’” he clarified, emphasizing his meaning.

“It was almost two years ago,” I said quietly.  

“So?”

“It isn’t past tense for me.”

I turned to look at him, his profile standing out against the night sky.  “Harry.”  

“I’ve missed you.  I thought I’d get over it.  I thought that it would fade away until one day I just didn’t feel it at all anymore, but that hasn’t happened.  It’s better, not as constant, but it still hits me, this ache, here,” he said, bringing his fist to his chest.  “This ache that hits me at the most unexpected moments, like I can’t breathe.”

“I know,” I whispered.  

He stepped closer.  “Even after all this time.”

“Twenty two months and 18 days,” I said to him, unembarrassed to admit that I had been keeping track.

“Georgia,” he said, reaching for me.

I took a step back, out of his reach.  “This is why I didn’t want to come.”

His gaze hardened immediately.  “Because you don’t feel the same?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what?  Why?”

“Because I feel exactly the same,” I told him.  I knew exactly how he felt, the way I might go days, even weeks without thinking about him, but suddenly at the most inopportune times, I would feel like someone punched me in the stomach, knocked the wind out of me.  

I turned to face him again, put my hand on his cheek.  “I’m not sure I could survive it again, if it didn’t work.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“You give me too much.”

“Stay,” he said to me.

“I—,”

“Just stay.”  He put his hand on my neck, his fingers stretching from jaw to collar bone.

“I can’t make any promises.”

He pressed his forehead to mine.  “I know.”

“I mean it.”

He pressed his lips to mine.  “I know.”

“Harry,” I said.

He pressed his lips to mine again, longer this time.  “I know.”  Then, “I’ve missed you, so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” I told him, because it was the truth.

He looked at me and smiled.  His hands slipped from my neck, past my shoulders, to my bare back.  

I put both of my hands against his chest.  I could feel the muscles under the shirt, bigger, stronger than before.  I was trying to decide if I wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

“I’m only here for a few days, Harry.  I have to go home.  To New York.”

“And I’m a free man as of next Wednesday.  I can go anywhere I want.  To New York, even.”

“Harry.”

“Georgia,” he responded seriously.  

“I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Staying with me isn’t a mistake.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“But what if—”

“No what ifs.  Just right now.  We wasted so much time trying to control things, trying to be careful.  Look where it got us, Georgia.  Let’s do something different.  Do you want to be here with me, right now?”

“Yes.”

“Then can’t that be enough?  Do we need to know what is going to happen tomorrow, or three days from now, or a year from now?  Just stay.  If you want to be here with me, right now, stay.”

I considered what he was saying, searched inside of myself for an inkling of panic or fear or anything else that might warn me away and I found nothing but a calm, concentrated desire to stay with him in this moment.  Even if it scared me, I didn’t feel the need to escape.  

“Okay.”  I smiled at him; his face brightened and became serious all at once.  I felt his heartbeat quicken against my palm still resting against his chest and I felt mine quicken as well.  

He pressed me closer and I snaked my arms around his neck.  “I miss your hair,” I whispered against his shoulder, missing the curls that tangled at the nape of his neck.   

“I miss you,” he said again against my ear before he pressed his lips to my neck.  They were hot on my skin and I felt a flutter of anticipation that grew as he pushed the straps of my dress off my shoulders, the swarm of butterflies in my stomach as he stood back and watched as the dress fell to the floor, the flush of my skin as his eyes met mine.  

“You’re beautiful,” he said to me and I believed him.  

I felt my hands shaking as I unbuttoned his shirt, felt his breath catch as I pushed the thin silk off of his shoulders, heard his barely audible moan as I trailed my fingers down his chest to his belt buckle.  As my fingers deftly pulled at the button on his pants, he covered my hands quickly.  “Georgia, I can’t….  If you….”

He was struggling with his words, but I knew what he meant, that he need some reassurance that he couldn’t take it again if I were to run away.  I looked into his eyes and I knew that for all of his talking, all of his desire to live in the moment, that this was more than that.  That when faced with it it was not something he could take lightly.  “I cannot promise you everything, Harry.  But I promise you that I won’t run.  Okay?  I won’t run.”

****

“I’m glad you came,” he said to me as he lay naked, pressed against my back.  

“So am I,” I said with a giggle.  

“That’s not what I meant,” he said into my hair, though I could hear the laughter in his voice.

His arm was draped over me, and he was making small absent minded circles on my stomach.  I grabbed his hand to stop him, because it tickled, and I entwined my fingers with his.  

“Harry.”

I felt him tense, ever so slightly, but it was obvious.  I knew what he was afraid of: that I was going to run away, disappear, like I had a habit of doing.  But I knew that whatever might come in the future, for now, I felt safe. I was happy.  

I turned to face him, so that he could see the truth in the way I looked at him when I said what I had to say.  He wrapped his arm around me and held me close to him, and I looked him in the eye as I brushed his hair from his forehead.  

“I’m happy,” I told him.  “I’m happy I stayed, happy that you wanted me to.  I’m happy that you gave me this chance.”  He smiled at me and kissed me, but I could still see a wariness there waiting for the “but” that he knew was coming.  “I just want you to know, to understand, that I’m different than I was.  I’m not the same.  I’ve done a lot of work and I’ve made a lot of changes.  I think I’m better, Harry.  But you might find me a bit boring.”  

“I will never find you boring.”  I had to laugh at how seriously he said it.  

“It’s too soon for such bold statements.”  I kissed him again, because I couldn’t get enough of his lips.  

“I get it.  I promise I get it. Things are different now.  I know. I’m different, too.  I’ve learned some things, and I know that I asked too much from you before, that I was too naive to understand what was going on.  I’m not an expert, and I’ll probably fuck up, but I want, more than anything for you to stay, to give me-us-a chance.”  He words were coming quick, as if he was afraid he only had one chance to get this right.  I kissed him, hoping to calm him, to let him know that I understood, too, that I trusted him.  That maybe I even trusted myself.  He kissed me back, and kissed me some more, in a way that said we had all the time in the world.  And I thought that maybe we did.  He pulled away, both of us breathless. “If you wake up in the morning and decide that you really can’t do this, that it isn’t what you want, then I’ll let you go and I won’t ask you to stay and I won’t hold it against you.”

“In the morning, huh?  You think quite highly of yourself, I see.”  He blushed at that and I wiggled closer, fitting myself against him.

“I don’t want to pressure you.  But right now, I want this more than anything.  I want you more than anything.  I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want but I can’t go without a fight.  Not this time.  I can’t just let you go.”

“I don’t want you to,” I told him.  I meant it, even if the prospect was scary.

“I love you, Georgia.  I always have.”

“I love you, too,” I told him, kissing him again.  “I’m just--,”

“Scared?  Me, too.  But that can be our little secret, okay?  We can be scared together…no one but us needs to know.”

“Our little secret,” I murmured, remembering how three little words had meant so much to us, how three little words had nearly destroyed us, how maybe now three little words were pulling us back together.

His hand slid down my side, until he gripped my thigh and tugged it over his hip, pulling me closer.

“I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for two years, Georgia, and I’ve only just realized that I hadn’t been breathing.”  His voice was rough and intent.  I knew he meant what he said and I felt the same way.

I sighed as he moved against me, shivered at how eerily his words echoed my own thoughts.  He twisted so that he was above me and I looked up at him, and knew that this was a chance worth taking.  I saw all the hope on his face, the honesty in his eyes and it opened up a hopefulness inside of me that I hadn’t felt in a long time.  Real, honest, nothing could stop us hope.  Not a hope that was fleeting and foolish, but a genuine feeling that this time, no matter the path we ended up taking, things would be okay.  

  
The End.


End file.
